


teetering on sword

by lililiyabbay



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Clueless Sexual Tension, Guard Mingyu, Homoerotic Sparring, M/M, Minor Violence, Pining, Political Intrigue, Royalty Jeonghan, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lililiyabbay/pseuds/lililiyabbay
Summary: After leaving the bloodbath that is the battleground, Mingyu becomes a guard for the crown prince's betrothed, living his days in the quiet peace of the countryside. The trust put in him ultimately brings him to the capital, where he encounters a new battle in the form of the crown prince's older brother — Prince Jeonghan.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: You Made My Summer Fest





	teetering on sword

**Author's Note:**

> got this prompt and immediately felt like i had to bring it to life
> 
> "Royalty AU where person A is the second prince (not the direct heir) and person B is the servant/bodyguard (you pick) of the first prince's betrothed. The dynamic is up to you!"
> 
> the world i set up for this cant be relayed in its entirety right away, so here's the first half of the (main) story for now! thank you so so much to isis for being an incredible beta and hype person and indulging in my rambles while i was writing this fic, it wouldnt be half as coherent without isis. another thanks to pri for reading this in its rawest state and gave me all the encouragement to continue. lastly thank you to the mods for organizing this with such amazing communication and organization skills! loved how this fest let me explore my creativity and make new connections with other writers <3
> 
> some more notes about the fic itself:  
> \- jeonghan is 23, jun is 22, mingyu is 21, and jieqiong is 20  
> \- war bad monarchy only good if its utopic like this au  
> \- set in a fictional kingdom and unidentified period because if i get too detailed ill lose track of the plot itself  
> \- last one: ENJOY!!!

The main road of the capital is brimming with people, nobles and peasants alike, as they all clamor to see what the commotion is about. Once they realize what is going on, they race and push one another to get the front-row seat. 

Two rows of royal guards stand to form a barrier, unyielding and firm, letting a certain width on the road to be empty enough to be passable. A carriage, not long after, makes its way forward, assisted by at least half a dozen guards around it. By the looks of the carriage alone, people can already know of the distinguished status of whoever is inside it. But to have the royal guards carve out a road in the process of simply receiving this carriage, then it must be none other than the woman most loved after the queen herself – the crown prince’s betrothed.

People are simple beings, and any chance of having the lady’s sight to sweep over them, no matter how little, is good enough. Isn’t it something to brag to family and friends? _Oh, you won’t believe this, but the Crown Prince’s lady looked at me earlier!_

As it stands, seemingly aware of the budding expectations from the people, the carriage window slides open. And there it is, the beauty the kingdom is renowned for to the neighboring countries, Lady Jieqiong. Daughter of the royal military’s General Marshal, she was born as a notable figure, and quickly grew up into the country’s beloved. No one knows why and how she comes to a union with the royal family, as the general is known to not seek power through political means, and so the people came to a conclusion of their own: the crown prince and his lady are genuinely in love. 

The people let out their cheers, mismatched in tone but beautifully concurrent, loud enough to possibly be heard by the people in the palace. Excitement fills the air, and it turns up a notch when Lady Jieqiong holds up a hand to wave at them, a convivial smile on her face all the while. Once her greeting is deemed enough and the carriage is coming to an arrival at the palace gates, she draws herself back into the carriage, sliding the windows shut again as the people still greedily chase for another look at her. 

This is an arrangement of every summer; leading up to the time of the wedding, Lady Jieqiong would spend time at the palace during the summer, which coincides with the crown prince’s birthday. It’s a grand time, as people would randomly be granted the royal family’s presence among them, their generosity and benevolence handed right onto their laps. To have the lady in the capital, is a sure sign of their welfare.

Mingyu dismounts his horse, giving her a good pat for her hard work the past few days before he lets the stable boy lead her away. It’s only the beginning of summer, the sun is out and the heat pleasant accompanied by the occasional afternoon breeze, yet Mingyu feels sticky from the sweat yet to dry under his riding gear. 

Right before they entered the capital, several pesky assassins attempted an attack on the lady, and Mingyu, full of nerves, had exerted more than he had to. Apparently it's a regular occurrence each time of the visit, and Mingyu had been briefed on this before they left for the capital, but the rush of the experience still caught up with him. 

After all, this is his first year escorting Jieqiong for her annual visit to the capital. The earlier years he spent at the city down south, was by occasionally being called to guard her estate. Later, he started regularly assisting her at her own request, rarely leaving her side during official matters. Now, here he is, stepping foot inside the capital for the first time in his life. 

Admittedly, it had been hard to hold his face as he took in the capital’s splendor. It truly is grand, the architecture notably sleeker and the crowd busier. He knows that he will not stop being impressed anytime soon, though, for there is still the palace waiting to receive them. The building is only slightly more majestic than the fancier houses Mingyu saw, but the sheer spread of the land is deservingly jaw dropping. There is a cluster of residences around the main palace, similar in design but distinct in each decoration. 

“Mingyu,” a soft voice pulls his gaze down to its source.

Jieqiong stands in front of him, a mild smile on her face, staring up at him. Mingyu realizes his incompetence then, how he neglected to assist her in exiting the carriage. Before the apology on the tip of his tongue could be verbalized, however, she speaks again. 

“It’s your first time here, isn’t it?” 

Understanding takes over Jieqiong’s expression, making Mingyu almost sigh in his relief. “It is, my lady.”

She nods, blinking slowly as she looks him up and down thoroughly. Even while she is doing it with such a calm expression, Mingyu can’t help but feel scrutinized. 

“Fix your hair,” she advises. “I reckon we will be summoned inside soon.”

He promptly brushes through his hair with his fingers, biting down on a grimace at how it’s surely turning greasy. There is no reflective surface nearby, maybe the pond in a slight distance away, but he doesn’t dare leave with Jieqiong still looking up at him expectantly. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice unsure. 

She nods, a reassuring smile painting her face. And true to her words, right after Mingyu lets out a relieved breath, a man in gray robes comes up to them. He must be a eunuch, Mingyu’s mind supplies, remembering the few lessons Jieqiong has given him during the breaks in their journey. 

As they’re being escorted inside, Mingyu finds himself unable to dispel his nerves. Jieqiong is considerate, but he’s been told several times by the head of security to stay calm and proper, showing his best, civilized self. He’s never been in the presence of so many royalties and nobles at once, and although he won’t be the center of attention, he is still right next to her. The mere thought of putting himself in line with the sight of these esteemed individuals is enough to make him shake. 

“Lady Jieqiong and her companions have arrived!” The announcement from the eunuch echoes. 

Mingyu never ceases to look at the ground as they enter the hall, no matter how badly he wants to look up and let his eyes travel and get a covetous peek at how big and beautiful the palace is. He is always one step behind Jieqiong, exactly to her right, and when he senses her coming to a halt, he immediately gets down on one knee along with the other guards surrounding her, the muted and uniform sound of clothed knees meeting the floor together at once pacifying. 

Keeping his head bowed, the exact picture of humility, Mingyu lets his ears feed on the conversation Jieqiong has with the King instead. In front of him is the king, the leader of this nation – and he wraps his head around it, finding the notion to be something that would be outlandish were he to tell himself from a few years ago. He imagines he would shake if he was given the chance to look at the King directly. 

“Greetings to the King,” Jieqiong says, “I have come from the south to spend another summer at the capital. May my stay not be a hindrance to Your Majesty.”

A pleased laugh escapes the King. Mingyu finds it a warm sound, its tone welcoming and familiar. “No need for such formalities, you will be family soon. Your presence here is always favored, child.”

Mingyu can feel the lady bow slightly in gratitude. “Thank you for your unending generosity, Your Majesty.” She shifts, gesturing something to the servants behind her. “I have brought gifts that can only be found in the south, along with some that my father asked to bring along with me.”

Without any beckoning for an order, there is no excuse for Mingyu to move from his position. But along with the sudden flurry from the servants, Mingyu discovers he can look around just fine, as long as it’s not ahead and he keeps his head down. He can’t remember if the Crown Prince would sit with the King and Queen on the dais that he knows is in front of him, and becomes increasingly frustrated when his mind refuses to remind him. What’s on his left is the lady and another row of guards in the same uniform as him, blocking the people seated at the far left of the hall. He can’t recognize their status off the bat, either, just by looking at their clothes. 

“Surely, Jieqiong is considerate,” the King’s voice booms again, pulling Mingyu’s attention. He sounds innately content. His voice lowers slightly, asking a eunuch to arrange the gifts immediately. “Bringing gifts, even though the journey from the south is neither a short or easy one, you and and your companions must be exhausted and famished.”

As Jieqiong maneuvers the conversation that has become too arduous for Mingyu to keep up with, he lets his eyes roam once more, with the limited mobility that he has. To his immediate right, long tables are placed, people with dignified aura seated there in complacent silence as they stay engrossed in the King’s interaction with Jieqiong. While the eunuchs’ robes are gray, drab to Mingyu’s eyes, the garments are still of fine material. Looking at these people, they wear different and more interesting robes, while retaining the same, if not better, quality. They must be the officials of the royal court, possessing educated and groomed looks. 

Chancing on the belief that everyone must be focused on the newly arrived guest and the King, Mingyu takes a breath and slowly releases it, stretching his neck a bit more as he looks forward. By logic, the closer the seat to the King, then the relations must be closer, so Mingyu tries his utmost to be careful. And it’s true, the clothes are noticeably more intricate farther ahead, and his eyes fall on a particularly gorgeous set of robes. There are only simple golden patterns embroidered into the pale garment, but that’s what draws Mingyu’s eyes the most. Such simplicity in the middle of many differing colors can be likened to freshening up his sight. 

An anxious feeling rises in his throat, when he realizes just how long he has been staring, the back of his neck is starting to prickle as well. Surreptitiously as he can, he looks up, and almost falls on his behind from the shock of finding a pair of eyes already on him. His kneeling stance almost falters, and by then he knows the guard next to him senses his movement. 

Immediately, he strengthens his legs, staying firm in his form, eyes barely leaving where they were before. His gaze is sealed on a young man, barely older than himself, and he knows that he should retract his disrespectful stare, being perfectly aware of his status. But there is something that compels him to keep looking, maybe it’s the kind eyes the man possesses, how there is no disgust as he gazes back at Mingyu despite the disparity of their position. 

Then, Mingyu almost loses his footing once more, when he receives an entirely unexpected and undeserved smile. It’s every part friendly and mostly secretive, an almost playful look that he never expected to have place in the royal court. 

Right before Mingyu wants to return the smile, the King’s voice regains his attention.

“A banquet is in order, I believe, as always.”

Jieqiong bends her knees slightly, bowing her head. “If that is what Your Majesty sees fit, then I can only be grateful for the generosity.”

“Show Jieqiong and her companions where they can stay,” the King instructs, and a eunuch swiftly stands up and walks to Mingyu’s side. He stands up, holding back a wince from how stiff his legs have gotten. The farther they walk away from the dais, the fainter the King’s voice sounds. “Let them rest before the banquet. Start the preparation from now.” 

Mingyu barely gets any rest. He supposes he should still be grateful for whatever downtime he got between arriving at one of the residences behind the main palace and starting to clean up and dress for the banquet. Before their departure from the city, Jieqiong demanded everyone’s time, asking each one of them what kind of clothes they like, then later returning with a few sets of clothes for everyone. “ _We will need them for the visit at the capital,_ ” she had said, “ _but you are free to bring any of your own favorite clothings._ ”

Complying with the instruction, Mingyu had brought his favorite clothes, the first set he bought after becoming the lady’s personal guard. He has been repeatedly called handsome while wearing it, though after the brief welcome in the palace hall, he becomes disheartened at how plain his clothes actually are. Though disappointed and slightly crushed, he manages to fold his clothes and takes out the one that Jieqiong bought for him and the others. And he has to admit, she is sensible and considerate, picking clothing that would suit such a formal event for someone of his lowly status. 

When he slides his door open, the sight of Jieqiong standing in front of him with her hand outstretched surprises him. She looks like she was about to knock on his door, but he beat her to it. After the shock subsides, he comes to his senses and bows his head. “May I help you, Lady Jieqiong?”

Her amused chuckle answers him. “I was afraid you had fallen asleep,” she says, “but I see you have dressed yourself rather well.”

There is a note of satisfaction in her voice, making pride surge in Mingyu’s chest. She was the one who bought the clothes, but he still succeeded in impressing her. “I’m sorry for taking too long, my lady. I have been inattentive of the time.”

She shakes her head, a soft and delicate movement. “It is fine,” she affirms. “I know it’s your first time here, so it must be overwhelming.”

“I cannot deny that,” Mingyu replies, he can’t help but be sheepish. 

“That is the very reason I brought you along, aside from the fact that I trust you. I’d love it if you can experience the capital to its fullest.” Jieqiong stands up straighter, one hand extended to unexpectedly grasp Mingyu’s elbow. “And this banquet is held for me, for you, for us. I expect you to have fun this evening, okay?”

A simple nod is all Mingyu can offer, quite honestly overwhelmed by the proximity of Jieqiong’s attention. This seems to satisfy her, though, as a smile paints her face.

“Now, would you be so kind as to walk me to the main palace?” she asks. “The banquet should start soon.”

Once they start walking, Mingyu half a step behind Jieqiong, he gets his bearings together. It’s easier to think clearly when he’s not being held by such an important and revered person. He noticed how the residence was already deserted when he spoke with her, the separate and private rooms for every individual failing to notify him of everyone else leaving. 

“Your maids, my lady…?”

“I prepared early, so I let them go early as well,” she answers. “I think they wanted to see around, too. Maybe they tried helping for the banquet, if they were allowed.”

“It sounds like you didn’t get any rest,” Mingyu wonders aloud, though his every word is intentional. 

“You are considerate, as always, Mingyu. It’s nice.” Mingyu can hear the smile in her voice. “But I don’t think it’s me who really needed rest. It’s you guys who have escorted and attended to me.”

“We’re only doing our duties, my lady,” Mingyu supplies. 

Jieqiong hums, slightly disagreeing. It’s been years of Mingyu serving her, and in those same years she has also done her utmost to treat her inferiors as friends, but Mingyu is always careful. He landed his current position through precarious means, and he’d like to stay secure where he is standing now. 

“You drink, don’t you?” Jieqiong veers the topic. Mingyu voices his affirmation. “There will be another reception after the banquet, I’m pretty sure. The best wines are usually served there, so don’t hesitate to let go. I reckon there would be people who’d take care of you.”

Mingyu can only politely humor her with a light chuckle. Enjoying himself tonight is the last thing on his mind, but he refuses to let her know. 

It was not obvious before, but now that everyone is standing, Mingyu gets to see for himself just how many people are present for their welcoming reception. Previously, the banquet was held at the main palace hall, the space turned into a dining area in only a few hours. He discovered and tasted many new and fine cuisines that had him near tears. He believes that there is no way in his life, that he can ever experience such luxurious dining on his own. He’d wanted to grovel and thank Jieqiong for being so thoughtful and trustful, but then they were ushered to the ballroom, where the next procession was held. 

The room is wide, the floors smooth and sturdy, more exquisite than anything Mingyu has ever stepped on in his years of living. But he looks up, and what’s above him astonishes him even more. The ceilings adorn intricate paintings and carvings, beams that arch beautifully, and supported by impressive pillars. 

Before he was allowed inside Jieqiong’s manor, he had thought his residence was more than enough. Then he entered the Zhou family manor and realized how unremarkable his home really is. That knowledge is further defeated by the royal palace with its magnificence, and he, a mere guard, managed to land a place to be here. 

When Mingyu takes his eyes off the interior back to his surroundings, it gives him whiplash. It’s bustling, though there is certainly enough room for everyone, they are chatting with one another. He personally has been keeping guard near Lady Jieqiong who keeps pulled around here and there by different people whose faces get increasingly unrecognizable. He notices, however, that the lady has no trouble identifying these people, greeting each of them amiably. Thinking that she has this under control, Mingyu lets his eyes wander, using his stature to his advantage. 

At the other end of the room, there is a long table that he presumes must be the drinks that Lady Jieqiong mentioned. Dozens of people are lining up to pick up the beverage of their choice, while servants are making sure the supply is constantly replenished. It’s busy in a different way than what Mingyu is used to, the kind of busy that makes his head whir with annoyance. 

“Mingyu,” a voice from behind him peps up, distinct from the sound of nobles socializing around him. Panic grips him, knowing that this is his second strike at negligence of duty, and prepares himself to apologize as he turns around. “I’d like to introduce you to someone,” Lady Jieqiong says, eyes shining with unrestrained excitement. 

Her urging makes his trepidation dissipate in an instant, and she might as well pull him along through the throngs of people. It’s a scary thing to think, being held by someone so venerable in front of so many nobles. If there is anything everyone has in common – royals, nobels, knights, peasants alike – it’s that they will talk. There is no time to entertain the thought, Mingyu finds, because a face so bright and similar appears in front of him. It’s the young man whose eyes he met in the hall earlier, looking as exquisite as ever, beautiful in his choice of donning more festive clothes. The robes are gone, replaced by a pale purple tunic and well fitting trousers. A sash is securely worn around his waist, the material alone looking like it’s worth Mingyu’s entire existence. 

“Mingyu, this is Prince Jeonghan, the Crown Prince’s older brother,” Lady Jieqiong starts. Mingyu’s knees almost buckle again at the knowledge, but he covers it up with a respectful bow. “Your Highness, this is my best and trusted guard, Mingyu.”

“If Jieqiong says so, then he really must be the best.” Shadow falls upon Mingyu as the voice comes closer. “You can rise. There is no need for that.”

Jarring is such an underwhelming word to describe the feeling of looking at a royalty in the eyes, in such a close distance. Mingyu feels like he could cry, meeting the very same eyes from a few hours ago, now with a new knowledge that chokes him with its weight. 

Up close, Mingyu might as well be blinded. He’d seen the Crown Prince earlier during the banquet, Prince Junhui, impressive and as regal as his status. Everyone in the vicinity could sense his importance, and the embellishments on his clothes clearly indicated his standing. This prince, on the other hand, holds a quiet air around him, but when he lets people take notice of him, there is no other choice except to look his way. He has the same striking beauty that the royal family seems to possess, composed of defined straight lines and delicate curves at the right places. Mingyu knows the severity of his disrespect, openly staring at a royalty with a greed that must be palpable, but he fails to pull his gaze away. 

“You’re quite tall,” Prince Jeonghan says. 

It’s a feat to find his voice, but Mingyu manages to. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Have you tried the drinks?”

There is something commanding in his voice that compels Mingyu to voice his affirmation in an instant. “Yes,” he says, then belatedly realizes, “... no.”

A smile erupts, lighting up the prince’s face, teeth gleaming and cheeks rounding. It’s gone for a second when he turns to look at Lady Jieqiong, who Mingyu has forgotten in his panic of coping with a royalty’s attention on him. “It’s his first time here, you said?” 

Lady Jieqiong probably nods, Mingyu unfortunately doesn’t know, as his mind is still all over the place. 

“Can I borrow him for the evening, then?”

That’s the question that gets the cogs in Mingyu’s head to stop whirring entirely. _Pardon me_ , he wants to ask, but his mouth doesn’t budge and his courage is too small. 

The face is back, eye to eye with Mingyu again. “Come on, then. Our liquor is known far and wide – it’s a must try.”

Mingyu’s instinct kicks in, right when a hand grasps at the bend of his elbow. “But Lady Jieqiong…”

“—will be fine,” Prince Jeonghan finishes. He throws a look at Lady Jieqiong. “Won’t you?”

“Of course,” Lady Jieqiong all but exclaims. She seems elated, with a small undercurrent of nervousness that Mingyu can only detect because he’s followed her for quite some time. 

The prince faces him again, his smile is gone and replaced by a slight frown. “And besides, are you saying no to a royalty?”

If anything, that succeeds in zapping Mingyu with an unknown emotion, unidentifiable as fear or joy or something in between. He lets himself be tugged along, it’s not like he has any other choice, while his head is still in a daze. His eyes drag from the hand on his arm, up to broad shoulders, and end at the back of a head. Thick, black hair is tied with an elastic band, keeping it together loosely though Mingyu almost can’t help but wonder what it looks like without the restriction. 

The crowd parts at the sight of Jeonghan, not as noticeable as it would be if it were the crown prince, but Mingyu realizes he doesn’t have to line up along the nobles for the drinks. Now he is quite sure that eyes are on him, in curiosity, questioning about who he is. There are many things that he is ignorant of when it comes to the intricacy of the royal court, but the interest of the nobles, that alone he can sense. How such an unfamiliar face could be hand in hand with a royalty, how scandalous. 

Mingyu has drank many wines before, courtesy of his best friend back home, but true to the prince’s words, the liquor at the capital truly cannot be comparable to any that he’s tasted prior to it. Not only is there a wide selection of types that he can choose from, there is nothing of subpar quality. Even though some are not to his taste, he can still acknowledge that they’re all still made with careful work and excellent ingredients. 

Throughout all this, he can see Prince Jeonghan’s smile, unchanging even after almost a dozen of different glasses for taste test. Mingyu isn’t faring any better, if anything, he thinks he can drop anytime soon. The room keeps spinning and when he blinks the darkness gets longer and longer. At the least, he needs something solid to lean on, so he looks around and starts for the nearest wall. 

A hand at his arm stops him. “Where are you going?” the prince asks, head tilted to the side. Mingyu doesn’t know how he can do that without feeling dizzy. He is so close, and only at this distance can Mingyu see the telltale of his inebriety. Pink is high in the prince’s cheeks, rosier than before. 

Courtesy doesn’t escape him, so he immediately apologizes and bows. Oh, no, his head. “Forgive me, Your Highness, I don’t think I will be suitable for more drinking.”

When he straightens up again, he visibly winces before he can stop it. Prince Jeonghan chuckles, like it’s the most amusing thing in the world. It sounds like it’s rumbling from his chest, and Mingyu wonders if the prince has always been this giggly. The laughter subsides into a wide-toothed smile. “Okay, let’s get you water,” the prince says, determined, like it’s a covert mission. Mingyu has no choice but to nod, ignoring the way it makes him even more dazed. 

However, it’s this time that the servers suddenly vanish into thin air, cutting their pursuit of water short. They keep bumping into each other and other people, and Jeonghan’s laughs are just so contagious that Mingyu can’t help giggling along. He has no idea what’s so funny. 

“We should go to the kitchen,” the prince proposes, smiling so wide and so convincing. Mingyu salutes and trails after him immediately. 

They slip outside the ballroom, where it’s gotten quiet and dark, and each step they take echoes in the space. It’s like a soothing balm to Mingyu’s drunkenness, after all his senses being assaulted nonstop during the reception. He watches as Jeonghan looks left and right, his hair bouncing with the motion. It looks so soft. 

“It’s clear.” He looks at Mingyu, beckoning. “Let’s go.”

Following the prince turns out to be bad for Mingyu, going at the uncomfortable pace that he’s set, as both his head and stomach are starting to throb the more they move. To his relief, right before he can fall behind, Prince Jeonghan stops. 

A door, ajar, stands in front of them. Even through his stuffy nose—he can’t remember why and how it got stuffy either—Mingyu can pick up the smell of food. So they’ve arrived. 

Just as quietly as they slipped out of the ballroom, Prince Jeonghan leads him into the royal kitchen with steps as light as feathers. Practiced with a few years of battle, Mingyu can imitate him just fine. No one seems to be around, though, maybe they’ve already retired for the evening. Mingyu can’t claim himself to be familiar with the working hours in the palace. 

Mingyu knows that they’re safe once Jeonghan drops all attempts at stealth. Exactly like every part of the palace that is not the ballroom, it is still and quiet in the kitchen. Hanging on a thread of his consciousness, Mingyu frankly doesn’t feel real. Who would’ve thought he’d be sneaking into the royal kitchen with a prince who also had just been feeding him exquisite drinks? 

His fear is a distant and illusory thing, especially when Prince Jeonghan lights up when he finds something he’s been looking for, then looks at Mingyu with the same brightness in his eyes. It’s a mere bucket of water, and being happy over it is such a simple thing that he grins back at the prince. If he’s to be punished for committing some unknown crime by doing this, he knows he cannot regret it. 

Taking turns gulping down the water, using their own hands as cups, Mingyu laughs along with Prince Jeonghan. It’s barbaric and nasty, coming from a prince nonetheless, but it’s also easy. 

The water helps a lot with Mingyu’s nausea and lightheadedness, though the same probably cannot be said with the prince, because his cheeks stay flushed in the dimness of the room. “Your Highness, how do you feel?” Mingyu asks before he can stop. His tipsiness may have been reduced to a buzz, but it’s not enough to keep his mouth shut. Oh well, his lips have always been loose anyway. 

Prince Jeonghan grins with an exhale. “Really good,” he says, sounding content. Then he perks up, and Mingyu only has a second to think that there must be nothing good behind that. “Do you wanna see around the palace?”

The way it’s asked is completely convivial, but somehow Mingyu knows that saying no or offering another alternative are not on the table. Thinking of the demerits he’s already collecting on his first day at the capital, helplessly, he nods.

Mingyu can admit, it’s fun. 

They have been flitting around the palace, in and out of many different rooms, not lacking any grandeur. It’s both thrilling and dizzying, because the prince won’t stop for too long at a place, just makes sure that Mingyu has a good look before they move on. Mingyu can’t think of the last time he’s had this much fun, even through having to muffle his laughter when they encounter false alarms of guards or servants passing by. 

At one point, Prince Jeonghan asks for a break. Mingyu is grateful, because although he’s not that tired, his stomach has not had time to rest all the while he was dragged around by the prince. 

Prince Jeonghan finds a spot in a hallway, quickly cozying up next to a column that Mingyu presumes would look even more majestic in the day. Mingyu follows suit, settling with a respectful distance from the royalty. For some reason, the prince makes it look so comfortable, when all Mingyu can feel is the hard ridges of the wall’s texture on his back. 

“I am,” the prince starts, “drunker than I look.”

Mingyu usually talks a lot, but he doesn’t know what to say to that. Especially anything that doesn’t sound cheeky. So he opts to stay silent, hoping that this is not another mistake conducted in front of the royal family member. 

The sigh from the prince is audible, impossible to go unheard in the quiet hallway. It doesn’t echo. 

“Can you take me to my chambers?” Prince Jeonghan asks, eyelids heavy when Mingyu looks at him inquisitively. He hasn’t the faintest idea where the prince’s chambers might be. “It’s in the eastern part of the palace.”

Not helpful. Mingyu realizes his sense of direction has been completely diminished. Just as he starts thinking he might be in trouble, Prince Jeonghan’s airy chuckle fills his ears. It’s a pure sound, nothing behind it that he can pick up as negative, only amusement. 

“I haven’t shown you that area yet, my bad,” the prince says, then he attempts to stand up. Which he almost fails, if Mingyu was less quick in supporting him. “I’ll show you the way.”

By now they’ve gotten used to the darkness, navigating through this maze of a palace now manageable. It also helps that Jeonghan seems like he sneaks around often. Mingyu doesn’t dare voice any of his assumptions, stupid as he can be. 

Jeonghan isn’t unstable enough to need to lean on Mingyu while they walk, Mingyu knows this, but he lets him be. His weight is nice on his side, and if he can have this chance to be pressed up close with such a figure, he’s not one to squander it. 

A tall door slides into view after a few minutes of walking. Mingyu can’t be sure how long it has been, though. It’s hard to guess. 

“We’re here,” Jeonghan announces, easily peeling himself from Mingyu. He’s steady on his feet, appearing more sleepy than drunk now. “Thank you, Mingyu.”

Mingyu bows in courtesy, the response reflexive. “It truly is my honor, your Highness. I hope you had a good time.”

“I did.” Jeonghan’s smile welcomes him when he straightens up. “You’re a good company. I think I’ll rest really well tonight.”

It’s another one of Jeonghan’s statements that leaves Mingyu unable to reply. Or it’s as simple as Jeonghan renders him speechless that easily. 

Jeonghan hums, visibly shifting his weight from one feet to another. “Come see me tomorrow,” he says resolutely. 

Mind going blank for a full second, Mingyu freezes in silence. Once his consciousness is regained, he nods his affirmation. He can’t be sure what to say, as always. 

“Promise?”

If this is not the kingdom’s prince asking, Mingyu would have laughed openly at how childish it is. He allows himself a smile, fortunately concealed by the lack of light. 

“I promise, Prince Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan hums his approval before stepping backwards closer to the door. “See you tomorrow, Mingyu.”

The door is pushed open, emitting low creaking from its weight. Jeonghan slips into its open mouth. 

“Good night, your Highness.”

A smile, then the door slides shut.

Whinnies of horses fill the air, along with the smell of waste. The damp dirt underfoot is firm, if not slightly slippery. A few stable boys look at him and bow, though the formality is rather embarrassing. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Mingyu greets the horses he rode with during the journey. He doesn’t know her name, if she has one, and doesn’t dare give her one. It belongs to Jieqiong’s manor, after all. “How are you? Did you have breakfast?”

The beauty neighs under his touch. Gods, is she stunning. He takes out the apple in his loose pocket, presenting it to the horse. Her excitement at the treat is obvious, and it makes him all the more full of yearning for her.

“Is this the fair maiden who has your heart?”

That feminine voice makes Mingyu’s heart drop, and before he could compose himself, the owner slips into view. 

“Lady Jieqiong,” Mingyu greets her. Belatedly, he remembers where he is. “My lady, this place is—”

“The stables, I know,” she says, then gracefully steps closer to Mingyu’s side. She doesn’t look bothered. “I was looking for you.”

“Ah, I will be finished in a second, wouldn’t it better if you wait outside?”

She shakes her head, one of her favorite displays of her own stubbornness. “I don’t mind. Do you fancy her?”

Once the conversation is diverted to the horse, Mingyu can’t help but take the bait. He takes another good look at her, her life and vitality thrumming under his palm, her lively eyes staring back at him, her luscious mane shining in the early morning light. “I do, my lady.”

“Then she shall be yours,” Jieqiong says decisively. “No rejection. I will take offense.”

Despite the barrage of protests piling behind his teeth, Mingyu smartly seals his mouth. Euphoria immediately takes over him, ridding the guilt of receiving such a gift, and he just has to hug the horse by her neck in his giddiness. She whines a bit, and he immediately appeases her with the last bite of the apple. 

“Thank you very much, my lady,” Mingyu earnestly says, and he is so ready to kneel, so close to offering himself to Jieqiong for lifelong service. “There must be a way to properly show my gratitude, as I don’t know how to repay you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Mingyu looks up to Jieqiong furrowing her eyebrows, though there is a smile on her lips. Her expression slackens in the next second, as if remembering something. “Oh, there is something you can do for me. But it depends on how much fun you had last night.”

This does not deviate from the behavior Mingyu has long associated with Jieqiong, but it still throws him off, how casual she can be. It does not help that he can’t read her, or guess what she expects from him. 

“I did have fun, my lady. It was lovely.” 

She hums. “I see. How fun? What happened after Prince Jeonghan took you?” Mingyu hopes his face is not as red as it feels. “Did you go your separate ways? Oh, don’t tell me…”

Sweat breaks out on the nape of Mingyu’s neck. 

“Did he introduce you to an eligible lady?” Jieqiong might as well have her face shoved up in Mingyu’s space now. Figuratively. “Or a gentleman?”

It’s not quite correct to say it that way, when the only eligible gentleman Mingyu spent last night with was Prince Jeonghan, which sounds sort of insulting to the royalty. “No, my lady, I simply accompanied the prince.”

Jieqiong nods, fervently to the point of almost losing her grace. “You are now well acquainted. That is good.” She looks at Mingyu even more intensely, her eyes taking an analytical sheen as they perceive him. “Then, I guess I do want to be repaid.”

At this point, Mingyu can’t be sure it will be anything good, but she is his superior, and he squares his shoulders. The years of military training ingrained greatly in his sense of service. “Please, my lady.”

Accordingly, Jieqiong says: “After breakfast, go pay Prince Jeonghan a visit.” It sounds like a request, but there is no bone in Mingyu’s body that can ever turn her down. “There is one rule, though.” Mingyu can feel his eyebrows starting to knit at the strain of his ears. “Actually, there are two. One, have fun.”

Mingyu blinks at her. She looks at him with a pointed gaze, eyebrows hanging higher, expecting an answer. He nods. It gets painful because he does it with such unnecessary vigor. 

“Two, you must tell me of anything that you find interesting.”

He resolutely nods, unreasonably solemn. Jieqiong must want him to keep an eye on the prince, but why is it? Is he suspicious, or perhaps, dangerous? No matter what, he knows the information that he brings back to Jieqiong has to be something that is valuable. She even sought him out in such an undignified place, he absolutely can’t afford losing her trust.

“Understood, Lady Jieqiong.”

Her mild smile that’s familiar to him returns, seemingly satisfied. “The smell has gotten bearable, now that I’ve been here awhile,” she comments.

It’s almost like electricity zapped his spine. “Lady Jieqiong, my apologies,” he rushedly says. Minding his distance, he guides her towards the exit of the stables. “You could’ve just summoned me.”

Jieqiong waves a hand. “I wanted to roam around anyway. I can’t do that once my schedule starts.”

A pang of sorrow hits Mingyu, thinking about how despite the opulence that her status brings, Jieqiong is not subject to as much freedom as Mingyu is. He realizes how immense the price of what she has now. Outwardly, he doesn’t say anything, only straightens his back in their strides, making sure his presence is solid behind her. 

Mingyu is not sure where he should be escorting Jieqiong. It seems more like he’s a trailing duck behind her. They come upon the main palace not a moment longer, coming to a stop when Jieqiong does. 

She turns around, delicately styled hair swaying with the movement. “I’ll be having breakfast with the royal family. It’s to be finished in around an hour.”

 _Be here by then_ , Mingyu hears her unspoken command. He nods, gives his courtesy, and leaves once Jieqiong is received by a eunuch. 

He genuinely respects how Jieqiong can exert such a message without saying anything, and even her face barely changes. It could be attributed to how well he’s gotten to know her, and by extension read her, but it could simply be her brilliance in employing body language. 

In the next hour, Mingyu finds things to do. The stables are not much fun anymore, so he moves onto the first thing that claims his attention about the palace. The width of the land. 

Though it sits in the very center of the capital, Mingyu noticed the lake behind the palaces and residences, and the woods even behind it. The park on the front half of the palace is impressive enough, but Mingyu can never deny the pleasure of nature. 

The park is supposed to be semi-public, anyway, according to one of the maid’s tales. People can propose a permit to use the park for community events, so technically it’s not exclusive for the court’s use. 

He strolls around, relishing how solid and pleasant the cobblestoned pathway is against his boots, as it leads to a bridge over a creek, before giving way to manicured grass that gets wilder the farther he trudges ahead and even farther up front, the lake. It occupies so much space that Mingyu has to strain his neck to let it dawn on him, all the greenery. He can see the stables directly from here, and he can already picture the horses being let out to graze. 

Despite how deserted his surroundings are, it’s obvious that every area of the palace is well-maintained. The dock of the lake is made of strong wood, clean and inviting. He wonders if it’s available for swimming, if it’s safe to do so, and surprised by his own thoughts, he also ponders over whether Jeonghan had also swam here before or not. 

For someone who barely spent that much time with him, Jeonghan takes up quite a large space in Mingyu’s mind. He is aware of this, and alludes to the fact that it’s too recent that it’s fresh. It makes his musing less inappropriate. 

Heeding Jieqiong’s instruction from earlier, Mingyu makes his way back to the main palace. He wades through the grass again, so taken with how it feels against his palms as he mildly brushes over them. A slight distance away, he can see palace servants and guards at the back of the building. The servants are moving at a constant yet quick pace, while the guards are stationary, circling the courtyard. They must have had their morning assembly while Mingyu was staring out at the water. 

Mingyu’s steps come to a still, realization belatedly dawning on him. Who is he to ask for Jeonghan’s presence? How can he pay him a visit based on his request alone? If he tried to ask one of the guards, wouldn’t he be reprimanded and laughed at?

As his mood dampens the more he thinks about it without bearing any results, he feels a tap on his shoulder. 

It’s a servant, her bright and witful eyes meeting his when Mingyu turns around. “Can I help you?” he asks. Then he immediately bites down on his lip when her expression turns inquiring. 

“You received summons from Prince Jeonghan,” she informs, the scrutinizing look still on. “You can wait in the main hall.”

Oh, that’s one of his problems solved.

“Thank you,” he manages to say before fleeing. He pointedly ignores the burning, curious stare that won’t vanish from his face until he gets out of the servant’s line of sight. 

Out of the many possible scenarios Mingyu has crafted in his head, he had not thought of being dragged downtown by Jeonghan. The second he stepped inside the hall, Jeonghan was already there with a radiant smile and had taken his hand to pull him along with no explanation. He is slightly dismayed still, at the surprise and unpredictability. 

After the numerous shows of faked enthusiasm at Jeonghan’s breadth of knowledge about the capital and its wonders, Mingyu feels his mask steadily slipping. It’s been useful to receive many pointers about the city, but inwardly, Mingyu has to work two times harder. Between discerning Jeonghan’s behavior and actually paying attention to what the prince has to say, he’s becoming exhausted at a breakneck speed. 

“You’re not very excited about this, are you?” Jeonghan asks, out of the blue, when they’re taking a rest in front of a bakery. His tone is not unkind, simply full of curiosity. 

Mingyu has thought of how to answer, but he still digs his heels into the ground, as a form of steeling himself in a hopefully subtle manner. “I apologize, Your Highness,” he slightly bows his head, then looks up to see Jeonghan blink at him. “I am still slightly tired.”

“Was I too troublesome last night?” For an innocent question, it makes Mingyu sweat from the choice of words. This silence is taken as a no, however, because Jeonghan asks again, “Or had you a long journey from the south?”

It’s the perfect excuse, and Mingyu didn’t even have to invent it, offered as a comfortable cushion of exit by Jeonghan himself. Mingyu nods, lips intentionally pursed. He hopes he achieved the severe, victimized look he’s going for. 

Jeonghan’s reaction is perfect, the exemplary image of sympathy: eyebrows pinched and eyes widening, lips pushed out before they open to say, “Oh no, I knew I should’ve saved the tour for another day.” Mingyu blinks at him. “I got ahead of myself because I wanted to show you around. Should we get pastries instead?”

With a mechanical nod, Mingyu says yes, only because he can’t find any possible way to get out of that. Dumbly, he follows Jeonghan into the bakery, where he finally gets to see the baked goods whose smell have tantalized him since some time ago. The owner, covered in flour rushes from the kitchen to greet them, interestingly familiar with Jeonghan. 

Mingyu watches the ease of their interaction, how casual and friendly. Today, Jeonghan is dressed in clothes that are more toned down than the one he wore yesterday. It was the first thing that Mingyu had noticed earlier, and how it does nothing to suppress the elegant lines of his face. This is obviously a conscious decision on Jeonghan’s part, as Mingyu mentally jots down the way the bakery owner never referred to Jeonghan as a royalty. 

“Han, what would you like for today?” he asks, bustling around the store. “We have new batches of pineapple pies, still warm! Your favorite is here, too, banana bread topped with cinnamon. What else—oh, these milk buns were made with a new recipe.”

Jeonghan patiently listens through all the chatter, while Mingyu does some exploration of his own. Having banana bread as a favorite pastry, isn’t that slightly too simple for someone living in a palace that offers the best food in the country? If there is a pattern to this bakery, it’s that there is nothing particularly fancy about it, from the interior to the goods, it simply looks like a family-owned business. 

One thing on the display catches his eye, which then catches Jeonghan’s eye, and the prince is now next to him with a disarming, uncalled-for smile. “Do you want this one? It’s bread pudding.”

Without waiting for Mingyu to answer, though, Jeonghan already calls out to the owner for his order including Mingyu’s. The same treatment is again used when Jeonghan beckons Mingyu to follow him outside, where there are sets of tables and chairs waiting. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Mingyu has to remind himself who Jeonghan is, before heeding the bid. 

After their orders are served, with a bonus of chilled tea, Mingyu mimics how Jeonghan treats his food. He had thought that his palace manners would be applied here, outside, as well, but Mingyu lets go of the restrictions he bears on himself once he tastes the first bite of his bread pudding. He completely understands Jeonghan’s affection towards this bakery now. 

Summer is only breaking, so the weather is pleasant, though it gets noticeably warmer the higher the sun climbs. The tea brings much needed reprieve when sweat starts to gather at Mingyu’s brows. It makes him reach the bottom of his food faster, which is also the same time Jeonghan speaks.

“Do you like it?” Jeonghan asks, eyeing where Mingyu’s spoon meets the plate, then up. Mingyu notices how Jeonghan eats at a more leisurely pace, and briefly thinks that the question might be a jibe, but he finds nothing but pure curiosity in his eyes. If anything, there is something akin to desperation for approval in the way he blinks expectantly at Mingyu. 

“It’s amazing,” Mingyu replies, just as genuinely. When a smile blooms on Jeonghan’s face, it’s hard for Mingyu to remind himself that he should keep his guards up. 

“Then we shall bring some home,” Jeonghan says, suddenly contemplative. “I have promised to bring everyone pastries as well.”

Mingyu has no idea who everyone is, though he finds out later with bags of pastries in his arms tailing after Jeonghan who is in similar predicament, making their way through palace hallways to first get to the kitchens. Amiably, Jeonghan greets the cooks and the helpers and makes a pleasant conversation enough to let Mingyu know he’s favored by them. This raises slight suspicion in Mingyu yet again, but it evaporates as quickly as it comes when someone engages him with a few questions. 

It’s easier to converse with them because he doesn’t have to watch his behavior as closely, though he is still quite guarded all the while. He tries to pay attention to Jeonghan, yet it gets increasingly difficult when people start to take interest in him and swarm him. 

“Yes, I’m with Lady Jieqiong,” he answers to a middle aged cook adorning laugh lines on her face. And rather abashedly to a different one: “No, my family is quite tall in general…” The questions are unending, and when he fails to answer them, they start to converse about him between themselves. It’s not bad, per se, just overwhelming to have this much attention to himself. 

Being taller than everyone, and having the expectation to respond lifted from him, Mingyu is finally able to look away and up to look for Jeonghan. Not that it’s hard, because Jeonghan is there to meet his eyes. His gaze is soft and the muscles around his mouth is lax, not quite a smile but as open as one. Mingyu blinks and the gleam of Jeonghan’s teeth peeks out from his grin. “Thank you,” Mingyu absently says to a compliment about how handsome he is. Gods, it’s nice.

It proves to be difficult to detangle themselves from the clutches of the kitchen staff, but they manage to make rounds in the palace to distribute the sweets and pastries. Apparently this is a regular occurrence, because no one looks surprised and everyone looks elated at Jeonghan’s appearance. The royal guards, the stewards, the servants, everyone gets their fill and a promise from Jeonghan that he will be back for more next time. They all believe him. Mingyu feels dizzy. 

That nagging feeling of suspicion is back, taking a firmer shape in the center of Mingyu’s mind. Might this be a way for Jeonghan to show him that everyone in the palace is in his grasp? As someone who has never had the inclination to scrutinize people, much less those who work within the complexities of royal court, Mingyu finds himself blind. Jieqiong must know that Mingyu has no prior experience in spywork, but she gives him this task nonetheless with that heavy trust of hers, so he has no choice but to do his best. 

All that time spent with people whose warmth encompasses Mingyu, he feels that his edges are dulled a little. At his core, he realizes how nonsensical it is to stay rigidly vigilant when there are only smiles and laughs around him. For today, he can only relay the information he gathered, and will do more if asked. 

After refreshments, Jeonghan drags Mingyu away to the sheltered courtyard at the back of the palace. Surprisingly, he’s proposed a round of chess, which he says yes to. Mingyu is not great at it, simply knows enough to play a good game. Halfway through the round, he comes to the knowledge that he knows nothing. To say Jeonghan is _good_ , is an understatement. It’s obvious that he is playing easy so the game is not over too soon, which Mingyu hates, and he’d honestly rather lose —

“Your Highness,” a soft voice speaks from behind him. 

Jeonghan snaps his eyes from the board to somewhere above Mingyu’s head. “Yes?”

“It’s way past noon,” the person notifies, which brings Mingyu quite the shock. He has not realized how much time has passed. “Would you like for lunch to be served?”

A hum escapes Jeonghan, like he’s genuinely conflicted. He glances at Mingyu, then resolutely says, “Yes.” He looks back at Mingyu. “Should we eat here, or in the dining hall?” 

“Here…” Mingyu starts, pauses to clear his throat, then continues, “is fine.”

This seems to be a sign for the person, probably a servant, behind him to walk away with almost inaudible steps. It makes Jeonghan end the game, the result ‘inconclusive’, with the assurance that they have next time, as if Mingyu wasn’t well on his way to defeat. Gritting his teeth, Mingyu gives Jeonghan a tight-lipped smile before they move to a table close by. 

Given the fact that now they’re back inside palace walls, Mingyu behaves himself at the table. As lunch is being served, Mingyu’s attention strays ahead to the sprawl of green beyond the courtyard that he knows leads to the lake. Perhaps his gaze sticks to the horizon for too long, with too much longing, that Jeonghan notices it. 

“Have you taken a look around?” Jeonghan raises the question once the food is laid down in front of them. It’s nothing fanciful, but fulfilling still, another interesting fact that Mingyu tucks in his mind. Though he supposes he can’t be sure if that information is for Jieqiong or for himself. Mingyu nods in response. “Is it to your liking?”

Of all people, Mingyu bears no possible inkling as to why Jeonghan would ask him that. It’s not like if Mingyu says no, Jeonghan would get rid of the lake for him. He’d nod, but catches himself and smiles. “The lake is beautiful,” he supplies.

There it is again, the small, satisfied smile. It’s undecipherable. At least to Mingyu, it is. And intimidating, because it renders Mingyu unable to predict what Jeonghan is thinking, what he is going to say or do next. “We can go together when the opportunity arrives,” Jeonghan says, “if you’d like.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Mingyu replies. Not like he has a choice. That is an opening he can utilize. 

Once lunch is over in the late afternoon, their plates and glasses clean, a servant comes forward and bends down to whisper in Jeonghan’s ear. Jeonghan nods and blinks a few times before dismissing the servant. “There is a meeting I must attend,” he announces, and Mingyu knows he’s dismissed as well. “Should we clean this up first?”

Everything Jeonghan does contradicts everything Mingyu expects from royalty. Though they are not washing the dishes, simply stacking the plates and cutlery together and placing them on a tray next to the table, Mingyu still feels this is not the pampering members of the royal family should usually enjoy. 

“I’ll send word if I’m free tomorrow, you’re welcome to join me anytime,” Jeonghan says when they’re both standing up and finished with cleaning the table. He looks around, gaze flitting from one thing to another, and Mingyu can honestly stay studying him. “If you have nothing to do for the rest of the day, I’m sure the guards would love to have you.”

With a bow of his head, Mingyu acknowledges Jeonghan’s bid of goodbye. Earlier, they had been spending some time with the royal guards. They’re friendly, and Mingyu, who is a former knight, found it easy to talk to them. His hopes of the courtesy being extended even without Jeonghan around is not crushed. The guards are just as warm, and none takes offense when Mingyu forgets some of their names, just reintroduces themselves with easy and joyful demeanor. 

For dinner, the younger guards even suggested Mingyu join them downtown, as their shifts are coming to a close. As respectfully as possible, Mingyu declines, knowing that he should report to Jieqiong soon. They make him promise to hang out with them next time, and he can’t help but say yes, too happy from making new friends. 

The walk back to the residence is quiet, a stark contrast to how Mingyu has spent his day today. Back home, even on his days off, Mingyu had always looked for something to fill his time, and he admits that it’s nice to have it handed to him for once.

Jieqiong’s maids are at the ready, though half of them are missing, probably due to preparing dinner. Mingyu nods his head at them, smiles at the ones he’s more familiar with, then joins the other guards lining up in front of the residence. There is only a meager amount of time for them to talk, sharing what they’ve been up to the whole day, before it’s cut off by Jieqiong’s arrival. Immediately, Mingyu steps forward to assist her, despite her amusement. She voices dismissal for everyone except Mingyu, telling them to prepare for dinner because they’re all eating together. 

Her eyes fall on him, gaze still and unwavering, while its intensity is assuaged by a familiar smile. “Did you have a good day?” 

Miraculously, the tightness in Mingyu’s shoulders loosens. It always feels relaxing to talk to Jieqiong, regardless of their different statuses, because she never fails to seem earnest and interested. It’s presumptuous on his part, but Jieqiong might just be one of his closest friends. 

“I did,” Mingyu answers. It was a really good day, the likes of which he never expected to experience. Gathering his list of details about Jeonghan from today, omitting his own opinion no matter how much he wants to bring it up, he continues speaking. Carefully, he watches every minute change in Jieqiong’s face, and dread balls up when she starts to look confused. He swiftly ends his recounting, “He is good with people, including me, but I cannot say for sure as it’s only been one day after all. The prince offered me an opportunity to spend time with him again, but I failed to get your permission first. I apologize, Lady Jieqiong.”

Jieqiong’s expression settles, to Mingyu’s relief. “That is fine,” she says, “I won’t require you too much during our stay here, unless I send for you. So, I hope you will enjoy your free time here.” A crease forms between her eyebrows. “Though, I do not understand why you’re telling me about what Prince Jeonghan did all day, as I asked about you.”

Mingyu positively blinks. Has he understood anything wrong? Is this another encrypted message? “Ah… yes.”

“Nevermind all that,” Jieqiong says, and she doesn’t shake her head while saying it, but it’s a close thing. “I’m just glad that you had fun today. And tomorrow, you don’t have to wait on me, I will be busy with the royal family. Spend your day how you like, you don’t need to wake up too early. Make friends and hang out with them.” She bites on her lip. “Prince Junhui’s birthday is soon, so…”

Understanding dawns on Mingyu. The birthday of the crown prince is generally a grand affair, but to Jieqiong, it must be more personal. She is his betrothed, after all, and there must be expectations from the royal family that weigh heavy on her. By staying close and involved with the preparation of the birthday celebration, it’s only one of the many ways she can show her devotion to the crown prince, and by extension, the royal family. 

Solemnly, Mingyu nods, unable to find suitable words. Being her saintly self, Jieqiong merely smiles at his helplessness. “We should head inside,” she suggests, right at the same time one of her maids comes to notify her that dinner is ready. When Mingyu tails right behind her, she pauses in her steps, and looks back at him to add: “Prince Jeonghan sent some liquor. I presume there will be your favorite among them.”

Heat won’t leave Mingyu’s face that night, and follows him well into his slumber. 

It takes Mingyu a full minute to convince himself he is not hallucinating. He’d woken up with his head latched onto his pillow, unable to get up, cursed himself for drinking so much and lied in bed some more until his throat got too dry to bear. With much effort, he wakes in hopes of bumping into one of the maids to help him get some water, instead he finds Jeonghan sitting next to this door. 

In Jeonghan’s hand, hangs a sizable satchel. “Water?” Jeonghan offers, extending the leather container. Mingyu physically can’t say no, even if he wanted to. 

The gulps he takes can be called greedy, but his parched throat is finally, if only slightly, relieved. Even when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Jeonghan hums, either in response to his gratitude or just ruminating on something. Mingyu can’t tell. “Do you want to stay in, then, for the day?” 

That reminds Mingyu how rough he must look, he barely even washed his face, let alone mind how his hair is probably sticking out unattractively, his underclothes rumpled. Oh, no, he’s in his underclothes. Mingyu slides the door shut with force, the impact rings louder than necessary. He curses under his breath – he can’t believe he slammed the door on a prince – then reopens it with considerably more care. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he starts his apology, “I don’t know what got into me. I’m ashamed that I do not look presentable.”

Instead of offense, surprise colors Jeonghan’s face. His wide eyes blink rapidly for a few times, and to Mingyu’s astonishment, he bursts into laughter. “Gods,” he wheezes out, “aren’t you entertaining.” His chuckle eventually tapers off into a smile, too wide for Mingyu’s comfort, but it’s a lot better. “I sent you the drinks, I’m happy you enjoyed them. Don’t apologize.”

Mingyu keeps wondering why this rich, influential, and powerful person is so nice to him. He doesn’t have anything to offer except relations with Jieqiong, and it’s pretty clear where his loyalty lies. If this is a ploy of Jeonghan’s to make him turn, he will make sure of where the line is drawn, even if it will cost him a lot. 

“So?” Jeonghan asks. “Are you staying in?”

He is not. Even if he wanted to lie and say yes, Mingyu can’t bring himself back to bed after seeing Jeonghan. A discreet thrum grows under his skin since the first time he laid eyes on Jeonghan, and it lives there, and gets louder when they are close. It’s unbearable. 

“No, Your Highness,” he answers, quiet in the way he rarely is. “I don’t think I can.”

This does not dim Jeonghan’s light, he simply tilts his head and it instead takes on a different glimmer. “I heard painting is good for hangovers,” Jeonghan says. “Want to come with?” An honest sound of dissent escapes Mingyu before he can gulp it down, and he freezes in terror. In his usual placid manner, Jeonghan just raises his eyebrows. “No?”

To be frank, Mingyu got into painting quite recently, courtesy of his best friend back home, but in his current state, there is no way he can think of painting anything that is not purposefully spilled paint on the canvas. And knowing Jeonghan, he will not mind, which makes Mingyu feel worse. 

When no answer comes, Jeonghan hums to himself, contemplative. Daring a look at the prince, Mingyu catches himself enraptured by the languid way of Jeonghan’s blinking. His eyelashes are long, framing his big eyes perfectly. It reminds Mingyu of the poetries singers would perform, whose words press down on his chest. 

“Do you want to swim?” Jeonghan suggests. The mischievous glint that Mingyu has only gotten to see once is back. Somehow hypnotized, Mingyu nods. It’s worth the elated grin Jeonghan gives him. “Okay, wear something light,” the prince says, then sheds his outer clothing. 

Snapping out of his stupor, Mingyu looks away and crawls back inside his borrowed room. It’s not that big, enough for one person, and it has a privacy screen for baths and changing clothes, so it’s more than enough. During the brief time where Mingyu steps into a pair of clothes meant for the outside, though dressed down to the underclothes, he gathers his thoughts and emotions and reconsiders if it’s wise to go for a swim while his temple is still throbbing. He supposes the thinking he’s doing right now isn’t helping his headache either. 

Jeonghan already has his outer clothings folded next to his thighs, now only clad in a considerably thin shirt and trousers that only reaches the middle of his calves. “Can I keep these here?” he asks, patting the neat pile. Mingyu places them on the bottom corner of his bed, barely succeeding to pay no mind about how it looks lying on his covers. 

Comforting green welcomes them, its picturesque landscape bearing much needed quiet on Mingyu. Jeonghan is not chatty, either, completely understanding of Mingyu’s predicament. The fresh smell of grass is perfect, cooling down his chest, up to his head, and down to his torso. 

Jeonghan can’t suppress his excitement, though, the closer the lake becomes. His quick movements of kicking off his shoes startles Mingyu into stillness, and in a quite undignified way, he sprints towards the dock and jumps off it, into the water. 

Mingyu feels entirely too slow, but he gets to the dock in time for Jeonghan to break out the surface. His previously pale shirt is now brown, his hair dense with water where it sticks close to his scalp. Any closer, and Mingyu can see droplets of water catching in his eyelashes. Any closer, and Mingyu can look at him. 

“This is refreshing,” Jeonghan comments, splashing about idly in the water. It sure looks like it. “If you’re too sick to swim, you can dip your feet?”

Oh, that’s not half bad. Mingyu plops down on his behind from his squatting position, reaching down to peel off his shoes obediently. The water is exactly how it looks, cool and refreshing. He can spend hours doing this, he thinks, even if the skin of his soles prunes and turns ugly. 

As it is, Jeonghan is still insistent in including him. “Sure you don’t want to join me?” he asks, what feels like the fourth time. He is now floating on his back, the water filling his gauzy shirt and making him look suspended in space. Mingyu will be honest, and it’s that the moderate sun feels good on his skin and looks even better shining on Jeonghan. 

Then when he’s decided that he’s becoming bored of swinging his legs back and forth over the ledge, “I’m coming in,” Mingyu resolutely says. It’s uncomfortable to only have the hems of his pants wet, anyway, might as well. Nothing to do with the wide grin Jeonghan rewards him. 

Now — now, this is perfect. Water is arguably the same everywhere, but Mingyu is perfectly aware of the different pulls and currents. Here, it is still and calming, unperturbed save for his and Jeonghan’s occasional frolicking. He starts wading through the water at a relaxed pace, then pauses to imitate Jeonghan and float aimlessly, and finds how the stiffness in his joints is transmuted into the warmth from working them into flexibility. 

Everyday, Mingyu is reminded of his age, objectively young still, but he cannot help but feel like he’s dwindling into nothingness. Being in the army, he’d had a purpose and place to use his skills that he’s cultivated since young and basically everything he’d known his whole life. Then he ‘retired’, and things have never been as fulfilling as the amount of work he put into training and battles. Being in the lake now, he finds that being at that state of letting his limbs loose is not that bad either. He has the choice of when to work against the water, when to rest, and finds that it’s much more favorable than having to stick with the one single thing he never felt he has the guts for. 

Shaking the thoughts off, Mingyu starts swimming, in asymmetrical laps or in circles around a taciturn Jeonghan. It’s, undeniably, weird to have his clothes clinging onto him, but it’s the one thing that tethers him to the fact that he’s in the presence of a prince. Surely some modesty should still be maintained. 

“This weekend,” Jeonghan says, suddenly breaking the silence, “there will be a festival.” Mingyu comes to a stop and meets the gaze plastered on him. “Night market, games, good food…”

“Yeah?”

Jeonghan nods. His hair looks magical, slowly wafting in the water. “It’s to welcome summer. A good way to celebrate.”

“I see. That is nice.” Mingyu waits for Jeonghan to make his point. This roundabout way of speaking he’s learned to familiarize himself with.

“I might sneak out,” is what he says. Which would make Mingyu choke on water, had he been submerged. “Do you want to come?” 

There is nothing Mingyu is subjected to, not since Jieqiong made it clear she won’t be needing him until she says otherwise, but he makes a show of thinking about it deeply. He is sure the guards from yesterday would find something to do for the festival, and he might ask to join them, but Jeonghan is here and looking at him so expectantly that it’s overwhelming. 

“Will you be going alone?” Mingyu asks. 

Nothing wrong with that question, he knows. And yet, Jeonghan’s non-answer: “Do you want us to go alone?”

It has not been mentioned once by Mingyu, and he has no idea how Jeonghan can come up with a notion as obscure as that one. Not knowing how to answer without raising his voice at the prince, he dunks his head in the water. Infuriating, unbelievable, every adjective that exists to describe Jeonghan’s ridiculousness. 

Mingyu is not stupid, considers himself to be quite bright actually, but he has never met anyone whose level of capabilities to make him speechless is as high as Jeonghan’s. Enough to make him want to hold his breath underwater as long as he can hold out just to avoid his bright and questioning eyes. 

When he reemerges, Jeonghan is in the midst of paddling around slowly. His eyes are closed, to avoid the sun beating at his face, and he looks peaceful. It’s a jarring image compared to what Mingyu has observed of him. Usually, Jeonghan has this calculating look in his eyes no matter how relaxed his expression and demeanor are. Even when he’s smiling and laughing, there is an anticipation in his eyes as he drinks up others’ reaction. Like this, he looks free. Mingyu has to physically turn around to stop looking at him. “Your Highness,” he says. Doesn’t know why he says it.

Splashes of water, of which ripples reach Mingyu’s back. It’s warm, but Mingyu has to suppress his shiver. When Jeonghan’s voice comes, it’s close. “Yes?”

“Do you not have anything to do today?”

Mingyu swiftly swims to where the dock is, clutching onto it before looking back at Jeonghan. The prince comes to a stop and reaches for the other beam supporting the dock, and returns Mingyu’s gaze.

“Not really.”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan nods. “I think they’re looking for you, though?”

Jeonghan follows where Mingyu is cocking his head toward, an innate satisfaction filling Mingyu when his eyes widen in surprise. Immediately, he wants to catch Jeonghan off guard again, as much and soon as he can. 

Where Jeonghan is looking into the distance, a few people are making their way to the lake. Mingyu recognizes two of them in servant uniform and another in regular clothes. A sigh escapes Jeonghan from Mingyu’s side, and it sounds so familiar that Mingyu takes a few seconds to remember where he heard it from before.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, catching Mingyu’s eyes, “you seem to be right.”

Before Jeonghan can heave himself up onto the dock and walk away, Mingyu grasps at his wrist, realizing in the next second of what he’s done. He can’t find annoyance or offense in Jeonghan’s eyes, though, so he continues what he’d wanted to say.

“I’ll go with you,” he tells Jeonghan. He hopes his voice isn’t as shaky as he feels. “This weekend.”

The smile Jeonghan shoots him, brief as it is, is warm. The water is not cold anymore. 

Eventually, the people looking for Jeonghan finish their trek and are now standing not far away from the dock. They don’t seem to be eager to physically fish Jeonghan out of the water. Jeonghan notices this, and crawls out onto the dock while wringing his shirt. When he speaks, his voice is different from how Mingyu is allowed to hear it. 

“Do I have anything scheduled for today?” Its cadence has taken a harder edge to it, stiff, formal. Not usually used when he and Mingyu speak. It’s new to hear Jeonghan be anything other than friendly. But again, like the sigh, it reminds Mingyu of one thing: Jieqiong’s resignation reserved for official summons.

No one pays Mingyu any mind, after that. Except maybe when Mingyu trudged back toward the direction of the residence, some of the guards at the courtyard caught a look at him and laughed. They slapped his back in mirth, and it was quite nice to make people so happy though it was because he was soaked to the bone. 

He’s a lot less drenched now, but also less eager to do anything. Once he reaches his room, he doesn’t enter. He is sitting on the stairs in front of the door, idly watching water drip from the tips of his hair. Jeonghan is not a loud person, but the quiet surrounding Mingyu now is more pronounced than ever without him around. It doesn’t help that he has not spotted anyone since returning to the residence. Aside from Jieqiong’s lady-in-waitings, everyone must be freed from duties as well. 

Mingyu shakes the water out of his hair, harsher than he probably should, since his head is not back to its ache-free state from before. But it’s not bad, the whirring noise filling his eardrums sobering in more ways than one. 

Entering his room, he belatedly realizes that Jeonghan has left his clothes here. With no means of reaching Jeonghan, considering the prince’s appointment and his own unfitness, it won’t be returned to the owner anytime soon. Mingyu ponders for a moment, then lets his door slide shut. 

In the dimness of the room and the bloom of his own shame, Mingyu grabs the bundle of fabric and brings it up to his nose, then inhales. 

It’s raining outside. It’s pouring, and Mingyu can’t go anywhere. 

The last few days, he has been doing his utmost to avoid bumping into Jeonghan. Every time a servant merely looked his way, he would find an excuse and slip away for a while. The royal guards that have been his company are slightly confounded by this, but they ate up every ridiculous reason that Mingyu came up with. 

Now, Mingyu is stuck in the courtyard. He is taking shelter along with the guards he befriended during the past couple days, the roofed verandah giving quite the cover. 

While his friends are laughing and playing around with rain, Mingyu can only feel trepidation closing up on him. 

“Mingyu,” one of the guards calls out, “you don’t look good.”

Seungcheol, slightly closer to him than the others, who he remembers as being head of the infantrymen, comments, “You scared of a little rain?”

That succeeds to both spark another bout of laughter in the crowd and Mingyu’s annoyance. Rolling his eyes, Mingyu clicks his tongue at them. “I am allowed to be afraid of a little rain,” he says, “after all, I’m not scared of worse.”

Despite their booing at his boast, Mingyu still curls his lips into a smirk. Though royal guards possess a special status due to their proximity to the royal family, they have not been involved in actual war for more than a decade. Mingyu, on the other hand, has served at the border where he was faced with too many battles to count, and thus gained the upper hand in terms of experience.

“What’s worse?” a disembodied voice asks. It comes from right behind him.

Mingyu’s spine freezes up. He sees Seungcheol forming an ‘o’ with his mouth, while his eyes are filled with glee. Yesterday, he had been pulled aside and asked why and how had he gotten favored by Jeonghan. Mingyu’s answer came in the form of imitating a gaping fish for a full minute. 

“Your Highness!” rings out the echoes of greeting from the guards. 

Ignoring the urge to flee, Mingyu turns around as calmly as he can muster, and bows. “Your Highness Prince Jeonghan,” he greets. 

The eyes he is actively trying to ignore search for his. “Hello, everyone,” Jeonghan says, nods to Seungcheol, “Seungcheol,” then looks up at Mingyu. “Mingyu.”

Inside his head, Mingyu recites all the deities he can conjure from memory, the ones his mom always prays to. Only the blaring sound of a warning trumpet fills his mind, as he screams for help. After the disrespectful, dishonorable thing he did with the prince’s clothes, he did not know how to face him. Still doesn’t.

“Boys,” Jeonghan intones, eyes still steadfast on Mingyu, “do you mind if I borrow Mingyu for a bit?”

No one disagrees, of course, voicing their approval. Except Seungcheol. “Promise to give him back?”

Mingyu wants to dig a hole in the ground and hide in it. 

“My, my,” Jeonghan tuts, playful, “getting possessive, aren’t you?”

He should start digging now, probably. 

Without waiting for Seungcheol’s response, Jeonghan beckons Mingyu to follow him, with a subtle tilt to his head. It seems to be Jeonghan’s favorite gesture, and this, Mingyu tucks inside his memory. 

Once they are a considerable distance away from other people, making their slow but sure steps through the verandah, Mingyu finds courage to say something. “Your Highness,” he utters. Jeonghan makes an inquisitive hum. Wow, Mingyu has not thought this far, how to continue. Forsaking courtesy, he says the first thing he can think of. “Where are we going?”

Jeonghan hums again, now noncommittal. It’s amazing how he can convey different types of feelings with only one syllable, but it’s also not helpful to Mingyu at all. His heart is starting to pump faster, after it momentarily stopped when Jeonghan showed up out of nowhere, and his mind is supplying him with all kinds of things that might have incriminated him without his knowledge. 

Is it possible that someone had spied on Mingyu when he was smelling the prince’s clothes? To be fair, he had flung the clothes as far away as possible once he realized what he was doing, and verbally berated himself in the quiet of his room. Had this somehow made it to Jeonghan? 

“Your Highness,” Mingyu tries again, trying to slip a whine into his words. If he is already in trouble, he can’t see why he should hold back. It unnerves him greatly that his own carelessness brought him to this point, and he can only hope that this does not reflect badly on Jieqiong. 

“Yes, Mingyu?” Jeonghan’s voice is patient and neutral, and Mingyu so wishes he’d go back to humming if it means he will be easier to read. 

“Are we doing anything in particular?”

“Can you read?” Jeonghan asks back. 

What? “Yes…” Mingyu trails off, unsure where this is going.

“Can you write?”

In all honesty, Mingyu does not write much, because he is naturally left-handed. His scribbles tend to come out awkward and messy, and he never had much need for the skill of writing since he was knighted. Still, he answers: “Yes, I can.”

Jeonghan nods, even though it’s only the back of his head that Mingyu can see. They are entering the palace now, passing through the winding halls, and they only come to a stop in front of grand doors that Jeonghan gingerly pushes open. This amount of care as shown by Jeonghan makes Mingyu cautious, too. 

Tall rows of shelves — tall enough to almost brush the high, dome ceiling — greet them. It makes Mingyu feel tiny. He realizes this must be the library, and while he has nothing to compare it with, he knows that it’s magnificent. Light is coming in from the large windows, now dimmer due to the weather, but the chandeliers are lit to aid its visitors.

That sense of being small does not dissipate, the further he goes inside, ambling along behind Jeonghan. 

Mingyu feels aimless, once he slides into the seat opposite of Jeonghan on the table by the window. He does not think himself qualified to be touching the archives stored in this place, but he is also very close to starting to bounce on his feet from not doing anything. Is this, in a way, a punishment?

There is no way Jeonghan does not notice this, though, because he looks up at Mingyu’s fidgeting. Right then, Mingyu is taken, when Jeonghan’s gaze is set on him. He has always acknowledged, of course, that Jeonghan is enchanting, especially his eyes. But now, less than an arm’s length away, Jeonghan is looking at him with the light from both outside and the chandelier casting shadows on his face. It renders his pupil stark against his iris, and Mingyu’s hand forms a fist from the urge to document it. 

“Mingyu?” Jeonghan inquires, voice even and calm. Mingyu is afraid that, once he speaks, his voice will come out either too quiet or too small. Jeonghan lowers his eyes towards the leather bound book he picked up earlier. “This is a report,” he says instead, not pressing Mingyu, “detailing the previous reigns. This one,” he adds, drawing invisible lines on the cover, making Mingyu’s gaze chase after it, “is about twelfth ruler before the current king.”

Mingyu never went to school, as he was immediately sent to apprenticeship once he was of age. History was never an important subject, unless it was about the evolution of the kingdom’s force and its battle formations and styles. The general had always emphasized on the importance of learning from past mistakes, but for history, the lessons were limited to strategies and tactics. 

The ruler, as Jeonghan explains, was the queen at the time. There had been no worthy successor, and so she rose to power. What shocks Mingyu, from Jeonghan’s regaling, is that it was suspected the queen had exerted insidious force to get rid of her potential rivals. But as this report was written by her administration, it mentioned no such thing. Mingyu does not ask how Jeonghan had found out about the suspicion. 

The report is extremely detailed, down to the bookkeeping records to show how good they were at budgeting the nation’s needs, even the military deployments. She was not an iron-fisted ruler, a successful one if anything, but she was also ruthless to any opposing force. Written as a point of pride, it’s said that she went so far as to eliminate threats before they could appear. 

“What do you think, Mingyu?” Jeonghan asks once he is done with the report. “Was she doing the right thing?”

Mingyu has no inkling as to why he is questioned on this, why it matters, why Jeonghan even bothered telling him in the first place. 

“I’m not sure,” he ultimately says. Is there even a need to pretend to be smart in front of Jeonghan? “She brought glory to the kingdom, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

“Did she listen to the people?”

“Everything she did, according to this report, was for the people.”

Mingyu bites down on his lip, looking outside the window as he considers. “She did her job, really well at that,” he starts carefully, voicing the chain of thoughts forming inside his head. “And there must be always something at cost, right?” Jeonghan nods. “While this might be a strength for her, showing power like this, I think it was also her liability.”

At this, Jeonghan perks up, interest evident in his expression. “Oh, and why is that?”

“Wait, how did she die? Was she assassinated?”

Delighted surprise now takes place on Jeonghan’s face. He nods.

“See… I guess there were some people who did not like how she ruled.” Mingyu rubs his chin, thinking harder, while also trying to find any hint in Jeonghan’s stare. “In the long run, such excessive, ruthless force does not benefit anyone. It also sounded slightly paranoid, ‘eliminating threats before they appear’? Did that include her own people who might criticize her?”

Jeonghan smiles, but does not answer, back to being his infuriating and enigmatic self. “This might be interesting, but we ceased to use that practice only since the previous king’s reign,” he says instead. “We employed new methods in handling threats. Which, in itself, can be defined in various ways. The reaction was… turbulent, to say the least. Change can be scary, I guess. And it’s only showing its progress now. This reign.”

Hearing this, Mingyu nods along. His previous qualms have vanished, replaced by the onslaught of new information flooding his brain. Then he catches himself. “What about you, Your Highness?” he peers at Jeonghan. “What do you think?”

The mild, pleasant smile widens slightly. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Mingyu,” he answers. Mingyu latches onto how his name rolls off the prince’s tongue. “What’s more important right now is, are you going to the festival tomorrow night?” 

The sudden change of topic is quite a shock. But Mingyu, knowing that in a way, he has escaped whatever punishment he was expecting, is happy to go along with it. 

“Yes, I made plans with the guards.”

“Seungcheol, too?”

Mingyu nods. Jokingly, Jeonghan crinkles his nose in distaste. When Mingyu laughs, it’s more to tamp down the weird feeling in his chest that compels him to reach out and poke Jeonghan’s nose. 

“I see,” Jeonghan says. “We can all go out together? I will bring some friends, too.”

Knowing Jeonghan, it is hard to expect what kind of people his friends are. So Mingyu is left to only nod, and receives a familiar wide-toothed grin in return. 

The festival, as everyone raves, is as rowdy as it’s said. In a very good kind. It’s familiar compared to the focused bustle of the palace, where everyone has a purpose and makes Mingyu feel terribly insignificant. Now, everyone’s purpose is to have fun. 

Children are out on the streets, many holding sparklers in their hands as they run around and away. There is a sense where Mingyu thinks he might have stepped into his own town square instead of the capital. Smiles everywhere are the same, and he has no choice except acclimating to such a warm celebration. 

Contrary to Mingyu’s initial beliefs, Jeonghan does not volunteer to immediately buy them anything they want. By now, he should probably know that Jeonghan is not a predictable person. 

The prince is walking at the same leisure pace as everyone else, taking his time to absorb their surroundings. From time to time, Seungcheol would glance back at where Jeonghan and Mingyu fall behind. A glint in his eyes tells Mingyu he knows something that Mingyu doesn’t, an inside joke shared by only himself. 

Mingyu had been introduced to Jeonghan’s friends, both nobles, equally disguised as Jeonghan if only for the thrill of it. Like Jeonghan, they are familiar with the guards, content to walk in a group with them. It gives the illusion that they are all of the same status, which is lovely, but Mingyu tries his hardest to stay cautious. 

“Oh, wait,” Jeonghan halts, eyes off to the side. He extends a hand to point to a street vendor. “I’m buying some snacks.”

Mingyu dutifully stalks behind him, watching more closely to the stream of people walking. He sees groups of young people not unlike his, older people hanging out at different vendors laughing over cups of wine, children and their parents, and — he is weirdly embarrassed by this observation — couples. 

It’s not as if he has never been a part of one, or known and bumped into one, but it is admittedly jarring to see affection shown so openly. His parents love each other, he knows this as a fact, but they do not show it in front of their children. His best friend is in love with the merchant he goes on journeys with, but Mingyu never sees them express it beyond what he already does with his best friend, never beyond anything platonic and friendly. 

“Mingyu,” Jeonghan calls him out. He has not realized that he was spacing out. A small paper bag, compact enough to fit in his fist, is handed to him. It smells fishy and appetizing. “Bought these. My favorite.”

When Mingyu peeks inside, there are fried dumplings and fish cakes inside it. His stomach starts to growl, and he is immensely grateful for the noise around them. There is a brown sauce slathered on the snack, though Jeonghan’s looks significantly redder, chilli powder sprinkled on top of the sauce. 

“Your Highness likes spicy food?” Mingyu asks.

Jeonghan laughs, cheeks rounding. Reminds Mingyu of the dumplings. “I’m brothers with Junhui,” he says, like it’s an explanation. “I’ve gotten so used to spicy food that without chilli food tastes bland.”

Mingyu nods along with it. He still doesn’t possess as much knowledge about the royal family as Jeonghan expects, considering the way he speaks, almost like Mingyu would already know about certain things. To avoid having to respond, he stuffs his mouth with the snack. Eating while Jeonghan watches him closely, gauging his reaction, he finds that he does not have to pretend. It really is good that Mingyu understands why Jeonghan took the risk to eat something from a street vendor. 

Then, maybe it’s covered up by the existing racket, a cart makes its way between the crowd. Mingyu, quick with his reflexes, makes a grab for the prince’s hand to pull him aside, away from the cart’s reach. For a good measure, he glares at the cart owner, who cowers and shouts an apology while scurrying away.

Once the cart is out of sight, only then Mingyu turns around to check on Jeonghan, and realizes his mistake right away. His palm where it envelops Jeonghan’s burns, and he quickly lets go. Now it’s frigidly empty. “Your Highness.” He hopes his voice doesn’t actually sound as weird as he thinks it does. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan is not flustered, just surprised. Maybe Mingyu had pulled on his arm too harshly and had not realized. 

“Yes,” Jeonghan says, sounding more composed than Mingyu will ever wish to be. And to Mingyu’s sheer shock, he latches onto Mingyu’s hand again out of his own volition. “It would be safer like this,” he supplies. 

Mingyu can’t think, but he can feel the warmth in his skin, soaking in the atmosphere of the festival and the presence next to him. With an answering mechanical nod from Mingyu, they start walking again, catching up with the rest of the group. 

Everything is uneventful once Mingyu reaches his third week of staying in the capital. No one has bothered him because Jeonghan, like Jieqiong, is busy with the crown prince’s birthday preparation, the royal guards don’t all have the same shifts every time so it’s harder to get everyone together including Seungcheol, and Mingyu has no friends. It’s killing him. 

Even Jieqiong’s maids are constantly gone, since as long as Jieqiong is busy with palace affairs none of their services are needed. His fellow guards are dispersed, too, having prior experience and acquaintance in the capital. Mingyu is miserable. 

In the most ridiculous turn of events, he drags himself to the library, all the while dreading that he will be denied entry. It does not happen. Without Jeonghan’s lead, he sees the grand space with a new set of eyes. He had only followed Jeonghan then, trepidation filling him and making him scared of various things, but now this newfound privilege to a space that must withhold things too many for him to count or comprehend, is beyond thrilling. 

Mingyu runs his hands on the tops of tables, the sides of shelves, the spines of books. It starts aimless, as he is clueless to how things are organized, and the mere variety of topics offered already makes him dizzy. A different kind of drunk from the one induced by wine. 

Chancing upon a more desolate corner — slightly dustier, older tables and chairs, Mingyu finds old, traditional scrolls. He remembers from his short years of education, that these were used before paper and books were invented. If his teacher were to know that he cannot remember who invented it, considering their contribution to make his studies easier, she would be disappointed. On its ridged surface, too, he lets his fingers brush. The thickness promises weight, so Mingyu reserves his intrigue in it for later.

Reminded of the recorded history of the kingdom that Jeonghan read him, a tickling feeling grows inside him, pushing him towards looking for something similar. He does not mind getting lost more than a few times, because everything and everywhere looks the same, and he ends up in the section labeled as civil records.

Everything is documented, segmented into years, professions, family. He initially wants to look for his father’s record, but winds up reading the history of his lineage. Mingyu is in awe of whoever organized this, how detailed and immaculate, then he thinks of this whole room, possessing history of years that stretched out way before him. He thinks of the future, how seemingly distant and unimportant now, but there will be someone exactly like him who read these records cataloguing the events of today. A dreadful feeling grips him, out of a sudden, conjuring the thought of someone with undignified intent trying to harm this very space. 

Once the idea encroaches the inside of Mingyu’s mind, it is easy to take roots and grow into more horrifying scenarios. Mingyu instantly becomes dispirited, letting the book close with a muted thump. He can be quite uncoordinated, and he cannot trust himself too much with precious items. Carefully, he returns the book from where it was, letting himself longingly stare at the spine of it before moving away to make his way out of the library. 

At the door, someone is already standing, seemingly about to enter the library himself. It’s Seungkwan, Mingyu recalls, one of Jeonghan’s friends at the festival night. Seungkwan looks as surprised as Mingyu does. 

“Hello,” Mingyu says, slightly bowing, not sure how to address Seungkwan. They all had been pretty casual then, but they are in the palace, and if Mingyu heard right from the gossips, these walls are listening in to every conversation. “How are you?”

Seungkwan’s mouth forms a round, rendering an amusing image. Then Mingyu remembers his place and bites down on the smile. 

“Hello,” Seungkwan replies, retaining the cadence of someone brought up as nobility. “His Highness Prince Jeonghan was asking for you.”

That alone is enough to make Mingyu want to shake in his boots. It’s not like he counted, but it really has been quite some time since he saw the prince. 

“Okay.”

Seungkwan leads him to a room, spacious and tall, but nothing compared to the ballroom. His back straightens at the sound of what he recognizes as swords clashing, and when he registers one of the forms wielding the weapon, the same impulse he felt on festival night overtakes him. He belatedly realizes what he is doing when a hand, surprisingly strong, holds him back by the arm. It’s Seungkwan, who is shaking his head when Mingyu looks back at him. 

“It is only practice,” he explains, guiding Mingyu closer towards the battling figures, but clever enough not to let him go. “For a special performance on Crown Prince Junhui’s birthday. A dance.”

Obtaining this fact, Mingyu glances at the center of the room, and realizes that the moves are too theatrical to be a real fight. Not play fighting, per se, as he notices there is good foundation in each move, whether offensive or defensive. The longer he watches, the more he appreciates that it is not just good, it is exceptional. These were attacks only martial artists would know.

“What are we here for, then?” he asks Seungkwan once he sobers up. He is a guard, and he can only think of one thing that a guard would be needed for. To protect. And that was exactly what he was doing, when he pulled Jeonghan away from the oncoming cart, and just now, when he had wanted to intervene the fight barehanded. 

From his peripheral, he sees Seungkwan shrug. “To watch, I guess.”

And that is what Mingyu does, until the two people inside the arena bow to each other, bringing the activity to a close. The figure Mingyu recognizes as Jeonghan bounds up to where he and Seungkwan are standing, bare feet coated in what seems like powder. He is sweaty, the most ruffled Mingyu has seen the prince, but it does not decrease any of his grace. If anything, he looks at his happiest and most comfortable. Which is very telling, because half of his face is covered by a mask. 

Even with the upper half of his face hidden, Mingyu cannot mistake the shine in his eyes as anything other than elation. 

“Hello!” Jeonghan chirps. “What do you think? Was that okay?”

Mingyu has no idea about forms of performance arts, much less the one performed in the court, so he meekly nods. It should be a wise decision, considering criticisms of the prince can be ruled as treason. Right?

Seungkwan, though, does not hold the same regards. “Your timing is sometimes off, especially during the attack movements. It does not look convincing enough.” Mingyu snaps his head at him in shock. “If you cannot do this in practice clothes, it will be harder when you wear the full attire, won’t it?”

Now Mingyu snaps his head back towards Jeonghan. Full attire? 

Jeonghan catches the question in Mingyu’s titled head, laughing airily. Seungkwan’s commentary does not seem to faze him. “This,” he says, gesturing to his clothes, light and well fitting, “is for practice only. The costume I will wear is much more intricate and heavy. What else, Seungkwan?”

“You should practice with Jieqiong soon,” Seungkwan decides after considering. Mingyu blinks. “You have to be accustomed with each other first.”

“Lady Jieqiong?” Mingyu blurts out. Then realizes his insolence, cutting into the conversation like that. 

Jeonghan nods. “It’s a story of a knight,” he starts, pointing at himself, “serving under a king and is on a mission to rescue his soulmate. She is kept hostage by a demon, who is my partner from earlier,” he pauses, looking around. The other figure from the arena approaches, tall and menacing, face covered by a different kind of mask. “I have to aid her escape and bring her home to him. Then the story ends once I succeed.”

Mingyu has a pretty good guess who the king and the soulmate are, so he does not ask. Instead, he peers curiously at Jeonghan’s training partner. Sensing the stare, they take off the mask, and the intensity surrounding the person immediately zeroes in on Mingyu.

“Oh, this is Hyun,” Jeonghan conversationally introduces, like Mingyu is not in the midst of being scorched by a beam. “She is the demon.”

 _Yes, she is,_ Mingyu thinks. For some reason, Hyun looks like she notices his course of thoughts, and her gaze turns to a glare. Thankfully, she only nods at them before walking away and out of the room. 

“You will get used to her,” Seungkwan supplies helpfully. 

They have lunch brought to the room, to eat together on the floor, shockingly. Mingyu does not find this surprising from Jeonghan, but Seungkwan does not complain either. His attention is momentarily taken when Jeonghan peels the mask off his face, shaking his damp hair slightly. Something akin to hunger settles in Mingyu at the sight, soothed, before it starts pounding again at the confines that is his body. Politely, he looks away.

The celebration is grand, single-handedly the most lavish event Mingyu has ever partaken in. At first he was guarded, before Seungkwan hauled him toward where his group of friends were standing. It was the second best spot to watch the proceeding, including the entertainment, so Mingyu never uttered any complaint. 

Jeonghan is beautiful, even under the layers of the attire, head heavy with the mask that even Mingyu can recognize for its intricacy. It’s sharp but delicate at the same time, displaying the image of a cunning character. The wide steps that Jeonghan takes, exaggerated with kicks matching the rhythm of the music, are careful and calculated. The level of focus and control the moves require is astounding, that Mingyu cannot help appreciating the work that goes into it. Even Seungkwan, who usually never runs out of things to comment on, can only gape as the plot of the performance unfolds. 

As it was said before, the dance ends with Jeonghan assisting Jieqiong — clad in more flowy gowns, a glimmering cloth wrapped around her arms, and a gold mask matching its shine — to the throne, where Crown Prince Junhui is sitting. The sight of Jeonghan making way for Jieqiong strikes familiarity in Mingyu, remembering how that is usually his spot and duty. 

Everyone erupts to cheers when the performance is brought to an end, the air stilling for barely a heartbeat before it’s filled with celebration. Knowing that no one involved had it easy to present this, especially Jeonghan who he saw had been criticized openly, Mingyu senses pride that is not supposed to be his.

Warmth overflows, both from inside himself and from around him. Seungkwan has an arm wrapped around him, nowhere close to being painful. He would recoil, but this sense of enjoying the presence of so many people has become strange to him, that it’s now so welcomed. To his heart’s content, he lets go of his restrictions, and ends the night full of food, drinks, and delight.

Things start calming down only a while after the party, the buzz fizzing into occasional mentions instead of the praises sung about it from before. During this time, too, Jeonghan rests. Apparently. Mingyu has not seen him at all since the crown prince’s birthday. Has not acknowledged that he has been wanting to. 

Since activities are more lax in the palace, Jieqiong is making visits to the residence again. Though not as often as before. Questions are budding inside Mingyu, but he cannot shape them into concrete words yet. So when they had the chance to talk, Jieqiong asked him about what he thought about the party, and Mingyu told her it was wonderful and that he had the chance to watch Jeonghan’s practice before it was performed. This came as a surprise to Jieqiong, obvious in her stiffening and raised eyebrow, but she did not press further. 

Mingyu had hoped to receive more instruction regarding his stay here, but Jieqiong merely laughed at him and his stubborn sense of duty. 

Now he is back to dull days, not doing much except from taking walks around the palace. He has considered going for a dunk in the lake, but it somehow feels lacking to do without Jeonghan. He checks on his horse every morning, talks to stable boys, Jieqiong’s maids and the palace guards, to everyone he bumps into. Seungkwan has vanished, too, interestingly. Though Mingyu is aware that he is a nobility and must have affairs to attend to, it has been jarringly quiet without his chatter. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, breaking Mingyu out of his reverie while idling around the courtyard, where no one he recognizes is on a shift. Seungcheol rolls into view. “You are so bored.” It’s a statement Mingyu cannot refute. “We are practicing at the compound, if you want to join?”

Against his better judgment and consideration, Mingyu is already straightening up. “Please,” he says, without dignity. 

The compound is not much farther than the stables, only at the opposing side of the area. Already, rows of guards are standing there, warming up, and it’s such a familiar scene and atmosphere that Mingyu is almost calm amidst his joy. Seungcheol leaves his side to report to the man who must be in charge of the training, presumably the commander, Mingyu bowing at him when he glances at Mingyu. 

Not much later, Mingyu is joining the line, garnering quite the stare because of his uniform-less state. The few people who he recognizes and know him are grinning at him, like this is both something entertaining and something to be proud of. And maybe it is true. After all, this means approval from the commander. 

It is more than easy to slink back into the routines he shed years ago, as it is the one his body has remembered since the early years of his life, movements etched into his muscles. Beyond the basics, making up the first half of the training, Mingyu finds more difficulty adapting to the style taught for the royal knights. The kingdom has always put more emphasis on the defensive, and it is not that much different here with the royal forces, but it is noticeably more aggressive. Maybe because their role is to protect the palace and the royal family to its best ability. 

Chorusing shouts ring in the stifling air, and to Mingyu, this feels like home. But conflict, as always, brews in the core of his body. The power this gives him, the things he can do with it. Before the familiar darkened path of thoughts can get to him, the commander announces a break. 

Everyone has their own water satchels, except Mingyu. His throat is parched and he is miserable and Seungcheol apologizes profusely before fetching a page boy to get him some water. 

“Thanks,” Mingyu says, voice hoarse. Seungcheol grimaces at the sound. 

Who returns with the satchel, to everyone’s bewilderment, is not the page boy. The page boy himself is nowhere to be found, and in his place is Jeonghan, carefully climbing down the grassy path leading to the compound. 

No one is exempt from greeting the prince. Even the commander is bowing. Mingyu sweats even more. 

Jeonghan is all smiles, walking up to Mingyu with a recognizable satchel in his hand. “Heard from a running little bird that you were thirsty,” the prince says, so lightly like it does not matter.

Mingyu stuffs his mouth with the satchel, focusing on his gulps of water instead of Jeonghan. The content is half spent by the time he returns it, but Jeonghan does not comment. Mingyu watches as he and Seungcheol engage in a light banter, glad that the attention is not on him anymore. He ignores the nag of wanting it back, forcing himself to stay satisfied with not saying anything. 

After the incident, Mingyu is invited to train together again, over and over, even having a spare uniform loaned to him. Jeonghan occasionally watches, and during those times, the sessions are distinctly more rigorous. An attempt by the commander to impress Jeonghan, according to one of the guards. Mingyu does not participate in gossip. He does not. 

It’s becoming such a prominent part of his everyday life now, that he will not be surprised if the commander started putting him on guard duty. It does not happen, but he really does expect it one of these days.

“Holy God,” Seungcheol groans, after another exhausting training session. “We need to drink tonight. Please.”

Mingyu is not wise, and what he is, is burned out. “Okay.” 

Jeonghan does not let them. By this, they still go downtown to a restaurant with the very intention of refreshing themselves with alcohol and entertainment. But their liquor consumption ends up being pathetically limited, Jeonghan being the—unasked—voice of reason, reminds them that their insides can get even more inflamed.

“We already cooled down properly.” Seungcheol says, whining really indignant. Jeonghan rolls his eyes. Mingyu is too tired and sleepy to say anything. “Mingyu, say something! He will listen to you.”

That wakes him up faster than anything. “No, he won’t,” Mingyu denies quickly.

“Just try! He never listens to me.”

Jeonghan tuts at them. “ _He_ is here.”

“You are impossible,” Seungcheol says his final piece before feeding himself a mouthful of rice. While Mingyu is not particularly on anyone’s side, Jeonghan’s satisfied smile induces a tingling feeling on his palms and in his belly. 

When they finish, relatively sober to Seungcheol’s annoyance, he stomps ahead of Mingyu and Jeonghan in childish rage. Jeonghan does not heed it. 

“Tomorrow,” the prince says to him instead, “you do not have to join the practice. I might need a companion to paint with.”

Belatedly, Mingyu remembers this being one of the things Jeonghan suggested before they decided to swim in the lake. And he might be more intoxicated than he thought, because his lips are loose, and he does not like when people tell him what to do. “Do I have no other choice?”

This takes Jeonghan aback, tremendously it seems, because he does draw back physically, even only microscopically. Mingyu has not even realized how close they had been and how attuned he is to their lack of distance. He hates it, he can even see Jeonghan’s eyes taking a wary shine. He does not think anyone should feel like that about him, unless he wants to kill them. 

Mingyu looks away, towards where Seungcheol is staggering in front of them. “Joking,” he adds. It’s late, but it’s better than nothing. 

Jeonghan clears his throat. “No, you are not.” A chuckle. Mingyu cannot identify if it’s faked. “Of course you can say no. I had thought you must have gotten tired of training.”

The loose mouth, Mingyu can feel, is coming again. “I am tired. But I like it. The mindless exhaustion.” He stutters through his words, stumbling over syllables, feeling that he might be leaving something out but not able to place it. “It’s something I have not experienced in a while. And did not expect to experience again, given the circumstances. But…” Mingyu trails off. He cannot remember where he is going with this. “Yes.”

“Well, knowing you like it that much,” Jeonghan says. Mingyu realizes he is fucked. He forgot to address Jeonghan with his title at all. “I do not intend to pull you away from it. Though, if I may offer you another option.”

Mingyu will pretend he is too delirious to remember this, that sounds feasible. “Yes?”

“I am not proficient in combat,” Jeonghan replies, “so I was wondering if you could train me.”

That is enough to make Mingyu stammer. “Your Highness, I myself am very rusty. Still needing a lot of guidance. Surely there must be someone more eligible?”

“Nonsense. If anything, I think you can do better than what training at the compound can offer.” Jeonghan looks over and up at him. “Also, I do not want anyone else.”

Mingyu can faint right now. Would love to. But he is already taken by the idea, growing roots with the implications of it. What else can he do, except say yes?

Turns out, Jeonghan is not as hopeless as he claims. The furthest thing from hopeless. He is agile, never making unnecessary movements, already possessing the good bases that Mingyu witnessed himself from the dance. 

Mingyu spends the better half of the afternoon assessing Jeonghan. And this, too, is quiet. Brings him calm. If not more than the camaraderie from the training compound. 

“Good,” Mingyu says, internally forming his conclusion. He asks Jeonghan to sit down and rest, urging him to drink water and replenish. “You are better with swords, and if you are good at horseback riding as well, it is a good combination to have.” Jeonghan nods at this, obediently, like Mingyu is not sure he must have already had prior, proper training. “But close combat could be a weakness for you. Would you like to work on it?”

For the period, Jeonghan asked Mingyu to not refer to him as a royalty too much, as Mingyu is assuming the place of a mentor. He is also asked to be frank with his evaluation, which is not a hard thing for him to do. Even back then, he had his fair share of training and commanding an entire battalion, so this comes quite naturally. 

“Yes, please,” Jeonghan answers after drinking his water. Strands of his hair are sticking on his skin, particularly his temples, the sides of his neck, his forehead. An unidentifiable feeling sings under Mingyu’s skin at the sight. “You are good at this. Training. Teaching,” Jeonghan comments. Mingyu ducks his head bashfully. “Have you had any experience before?”

Usually, Mingyu does not hesitate regaling about his tales. An easy example being his boasting to the royal guards. But Jeonghan has a penchant of getting things out of Mingyu without his knowledge, and he is afraid of drawing out the subject. He answers, not caring that he is obviously vigilant, “I had a hand in training the battalion at the southern border.”

No one has asked him something so specific, usually only eating up what he chooses to tell them. Jeonghan is different, always has been. Things feel like treading water with him.

Jeonghan’s face is unreadable, digesting the information with a light nod. Mingyu does not know, or want to know, what Jeonghan makes out of it, if it changes his perception of Mingyu at all. “Is sparring a good way to practice?” he asks suddenly. 

“Uh,” Mingyu says intelligently, “yes. Yes, I think so.”

This must be the answer Jeonghan wants, because he grins so wide and moves to squat before jumping up to stand. He wipes away whatever dirt was on his pants, all the while looking at Mingyu expectantly. 

“Oh, you mean now?”

“Of course.” 

As Mingyu pushes himself up, Jeonghan walks away to the other side of the room. They are using the same room Jeonghan had used to practice the dance, turning out to be an indoor training room reserved for the royal family. Open cupboards lining up the walls hold weapons, including two wooden staffs that Jeonghan brings back with him to the arena. 

Mingyu deftly catches one when it’s thrown, immediately spinning it in his hands, testing out the weight and the balance with different hands. 

“I really do not like losing,” Jeonghan confesses. Mingyu can tell. “Can we start with this, before doing hand-to-hand?”

“Sounds good.”

Mingyu is equally good with his hands, being born left-handed and brought up while training with right-handed people. It’s a good trump card to have. If utilized well, can be an element of surprise for the opponent. Jeonghan does not pay this any mind, if he noticed Mingyu’s ability in handling the staff with both hands at all. 

Out of courtesy, they bow to each other deeply before the duel, holding their respective staffs horizontally close to their stomach. 

Again, Mingyu does not know what to expect. Jeonghan had shown competence in swordsmanship, but he can be quite tactless, despite displaying an impressive use of technique. Or maybe being tactless _is_ a tact. Mingyu is getting tired of trying to guess. 

They start circling each other, and Mingyu is sure of one thing: Jeonghan will not attack first. His stance is good, mostly defensive but still quite unreadable. He predicts him to evade at the first strike, and if lucky enough, manage a strike back at Mingyu with the right timing and a lot of flexibility. 

Jeonghan attacks first. 

Mingyu curses out loud in his surprise, not even minding if it’s bad or punishable or whatever. That is the last thing he can hear before the loud collision of wood against wood starts to fill his ears. 

He thanks his reflexes from years of training and battles ingrained in him, exerting only slightly more strength than needed because Jeonghan proves himself to not be half bad. But he knows if he eases up on Jeonghan, he will be furious. So Mingyu keeps this amount of focus, sparing enough for him to note Jeonghan’s blind spots and holes in his attacks. Defending works the best for him, but Mingyu can tell he wants to keep up the momentum after launching the initial attack.

This kind of fighting reminds Mingyu of his younger self, before learning the hard way that it is not sustainable for longer battles, as it tires the body out easier and faster. The muscles stay sore for a while, too, taking more time to heal. 

Mingyu shoves this to the back of his mind, then starts to advance. It is only when Mingyu returns the attacks, that Jeonghan seems to realize he is losing his ground. _This is where he will evade_ , Mingyu thinks, blocking another strike to his side before pushing the staff towards Jeonghan, targeting his neck. 

Jeonghan does not evade, but Mingyu already deems this a possibility. The end of the staff stops only a finger width away from under Jeonghan’s upturned chin, close to the soft skin drenched in sweat.

“You’re dead,” Mingyu says. 

He has his body half squatting, supported by his left leg at the front as he holds up the staff. Jeonghan is flustered, obviously, but his reflexes helped him take a step back, upper body leaning back. Mingyu withdraws, and they return to their upright positions. 

“You almost killed me,” Jeonghan says, catching his breath. 

“I was not going to.”

“But you could kill me.”

Mingyu shrugs. “I could.”

He urges Jeonghan to drink his water again as he does the same, listing again the things he noticed during the round. Once they sit down, leaning against the walls this time because the fatigue is really catching up, Mingyu pores over what he thought as Jeonghan’s mistakes. 

“Did you do any of them on purpose?” he asks to end his evaluation.

Jeonghan makes a thoughtful sound. “When I drew a circle in the air, that was improvised. I did that on purpose.”

Mingyu remembers that, and bursts into a laugh, reminded of how cornered Jeonghan had looked but still thought something up to distract Mingyu. He shakes off the last bouts of his laughter. “Okay, fine,” he says, a giggle bubbling his speech. “Then we also need to work on your feints.”

“Can we do another quick round?” Jeonghan asks, _pleads_ , if Mingyu dares. “I lost and I do not like that, so you can go easy on me this time.” Mingyu grins at his grimace and defeat. “Or, you can walk me through it. Anything works.”

The quick round ends up extending to almost another hour, because Mingyu does walk Jeonghan through his common mistakes before working on the trickier ones. He does point out that Jeonghan is already athletic, so that lends an advantage. Taking things slow and picking them apart is also good for their dwindling energy. 

Jeonghan makes him promise to turn up three days later to train him again, not tomorrow or the day after, because apparently, in his words, he needs to “recuperate.” Mingyu thinks he is dramatic. 

After cleaning up the room, Mingyu bows to Jeonghan and bids him a formal goodbye, complete with the royal title. He flinches back at the glare Jeonghan sends him. “Good night,” he chooses to say, before they part in front of the doorway. 

Once Mingyu returns to his bedroom, there is already a bath drawn for him. Still warm, when he dips a hand in the water. He can see his reflection smiling at him. Going to bed clean and spent, the sleep that night is sweet. 

Between training with Jeonghan, hanging out with the guards, reading with Jeonghan, training at the compound, walking with Jeonghan, and again spending time with the guards, Mingyu has not realized how much time has passed. Once he became accepting of how things are done here, in the capital, it’s easy to get swept up in the jumble and rush of everything. Easy and _good_. 

Hanging out with Jeonghan is a constant mental exercise, because he can only chip away at Jeonghan thin piece after thin piece, barely as thick as a strand of hair, because Jeonghan has the uncanny ability to baffle Mingyu with no effort. What Mingyu says, or does, around Jeonghan, is almost entirely guesswork. If he’s lucky, he will get away with any impulsive thing he pulls. And if he’s unlucky… well, it has not happened before. Mingyu simply likes being prepared, likes _knowing_ , and Jeonghan is very good at crushing any presupposition Mingyu sets for him based on something that has been previously observed.

So, to take a rest from that, jumping through hoops toward nowhere that is a conversation with Jeonghan, Mingyu goes to find comfort at the lake. No one is expecting him today, and he intends to use his time to its fullest. At the bridge over the creek, he leans on the railing, absently looking at the water streaming over glimmering rocks. Light shines directly on his eyes when the water reflects the sun just right, and Mingyu would rather not be anywhere else. When he takes a deep, deep breath, there is enough humidity to travel down his airway, spilling green into him. It is so lush here, rare to Mingyu whose eyes are more familiar to yellower and rockier landscapes.

Again, Mingyu has half the thought to take a dip in the lake, as he’s alone and can be slightly more indecent this time. But he ends up shedding only the outermost of his clothes, after reminding himself this is a royal property and it still would not reflect well on him as a part of Jieqiong's entourage were he to get caught nude by someone. 

The water is warmer this time, now that they are well into the summer, the sun mercilessly beating down on the earth. Mingyu soaks it up, basks in the slight sting of heat, all while floating on his back. That sense of pleasantness sneaks up on him again, warming him from the inside. The source of that tickling, good feeling varies, but it has been a constant presence ever since Mingyu started enjoying his time in this novel and grand city. It comes as a surprise to him that just by staying still and quiet like this, he can be satisfied, too.

Before his fingers can start pruning too much, Mingyu makes his way out of the water, and nearly stumbles back in when he sees Jieqiong perched on the edge of the dock. 

Her laugh rings out. “Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry. Mingyu completes his trek out of the water, wringing the ends of his clothes. “Having fun?”

“Yes, my lady,” Mingyu says dutifully.

“Oh, drop that,” Jieqiong groans. She strides toward Mingyu, the edges of her dress slightly catching on the uneven ground. “I heard you talk to Prince Jeonghan casually, why not with me? You are a friend of mine, too.”

Because her father is terrifying? Of course Mingyu cannot say that, he is not completely tactless after all. Though he thinks Jieqiong would laugh at that. 

“I will try,” Mingyu says instead, choosing somewhere middle ground. This might cement the friendship he finds in Jieqiong, but he prefers to be safe by being cautious. “Are you not busy?” There is a gap in his question, usually to refer to Jieqiong's formal title, now purposely omitted. 

Jieqiong smiles, a genuine one pulling at her facial features, rarely seen outside personal conversations such as this. “Not really, no. I have tea with the queen later, but that is all.”

It’s said so offhandedly that it sounds like nothing, but Mingyu almost slips and falls on his ass. Then he remembers who he hangs out with on the regular, and quickly gathers himself. “I see.”

“Is it good?” Jieqiong jerks her chin towards the water, looking every bit as refreshing as it was when Mingyu was bathing in it. “Swimming?”

“Yes,” Mingyu answers, nodding as he walks closer to Jieqiong’s side, “it’s good here.” A sudden idea flashes in his mind, and he asks before he can stop, “My lady, do you perhaps, have another reason for bringing me here?”

Jieqiong actually looks taken aback by this. Taking her time, she answers clearly, “This is exactly why I wanted you here. So you can be this happy.” Mingyu nearly interjects, because he did feel happy back home sometimes, but Jieqiong does not let him. “Your friend spends more time at sea than with you. I saw you were losing aim in life, Mingyu, and I wish you would acknowledge that you were lonely.”

Something discordant begins to whirl inside him, feeling understood in ways he will never articulate by himself. Mingyu ducks his head instead of answering, despising how he does not find it in him to even want to acknowledge how he was not doing well.

A soft sigh escapes Jieqiong, followed by a touch at his arm. “I did not know why you would not use the chances I gave you to do your own traveling, when I clearly said that it is necessary for everyone to experience,” she says, voice gentler now. “But you knew nothing except duty and serving, when you are an excellent person on your own. When you are allowed to be. It pains me that I had to order you to escort me here, so you can experience what it’s like outside your own headspace.”

There are many things that Mingyu wants to refute from that, but he hates how he starts to shake instead. This is the young woman of his general’s blood, the soon to be princess, whose field of vision should be too great to even consider Mingyu. But here she is, every bit of what a friend should be, in spite of their supposed distance.

Mingyu does not know how to answer without an embarrassing show of vulnerability. Which is probably what Jieqiong wants to see from him, but not now, not like this. The air is open and vast and Mingyu feels too exposed to speak his heart into the space.

Opposing his desire to be dismissive, Mingyu gulps down the hardened ball of clay in his throat. “I will do better,” he promises, “from now on.”

Jieqiong draws out another groan, this time exasperated. “This is not an evaluation, Mingyu.” She is combing stray hairs back into its neat tuck behind her neck when Mingyu looks up at her. “I want the best for you, and you should, too.”

It’s a sentence that Mingyu stores for later, when he feels less raw and less confused. “Thank you,” he says, before bowing at Jieqiong’s bid of goodbye.

Mingyu is nervous. Rightfully so, in his opinion. This is his first time doing hand-to-hand combat with Jeonghan. They have thoroughly pored over the rules and the basic techniques, which Mingyu is convinced Jeonghan was not paying attention to, so now he is recanting everything as concise as possible. Jeonghan had been bouncing off the walls with the excitement of finally getting to spar.

On the floor, powder is scattered, aiding their movements to be swifter. Mingyu tests it, dragging his feet over it. It’s good enough. 

“Get in position,” Mingyu voices out his order. Very weird to think about, weirder to do the first time, but he gets used to it quickly. Jeonghan does not act any differently. His wish is to learn things the proper way first, so Mingyu does, though whether he does abide by the things he was taught is another story. 

After the mandatory greeting by bowing, they start off by circling each other again. Mingyu assumes it is simply because they have so much energy, both being unreadable to one another, that they want to gauge the other’s mannerism to determine which step to take next.

By now Mingyu has gotten quite used to Jeonghan’s style, erratic but technical. And just how Mingyu learns about Jeonghan, Jeonghan also learns about him, at an impressive rate. Though as the mentor, Mingyu is aware that he has the advantage, with so many cards he can pull on Jeonghan. He tries to play fair, but at the same time knowing that Jeonghan does not like people going easy on him. Balancing things with such various and numerous considerations is not easy. Mingyu loves it.

Mingyu feints an attack, backing Jeonghan farther into the corner with the scare. It gets Jeonghan clicking his tongue in annoyance. Mingyu can feel his cheeks stretching from his widening grin. 

A series of footwork, efforts done to rattle each other’s footing, cleverly handled by Jeonghan to distract Mingyu from the oncoming attack. Mingyu has better reflexes, though, and is impressed when he finds it significantly harder to parry Jeonghan’s arm. He is getting better at directing his strength.

Then they start to grapple, but Mingyu is not even using his full strength, sensing the disparity of their power. That is fine. Jeonghan makes it up by evading and escaping, before landing shocking blows that get Mingyu stumble back a few times.

To match Jeonghan’s dirty play, Mingyu slips a leg between Jeonghan’s before hooking it behind the bend of his knee and _pulls_. Jeonghan topples over and falls on his knees with a painful sounding thump, letting out a small cry that Mingyu only has a second to feel sorry about. Jeonghan crashes his skull against Mingyu’s stomach, the surprise knocking the air out of his lungs that his hold on Jeonghan slackens.

Jeonghan is fast, a fact that Mingyu fails to remember every damn time. He is back up on his feet, posture perfect and ready, before jumping to deliver a side kick. 

It is not hard to meet the attack halfway, Mingyu just as ready to receive the brunt of it, then while ignoring the spike of pain, he uses the momentum of Jeonghan balancing himself to grab one of his arms and twist him around. Another sharp cry rings out, still more of surprise than pain, because Mingyu knows how to regulate himself. He nudges his knee forward, bringing Jeonghan to his knees once again.

“Do you surrender?” Mingyu asks. His voice sounds like it is coming out of his stomach. Jeonghan, frantic, shakes his head. 

Then in an unprecedented move, Jeonghan throws all his body weight backwards, crashing into an unassuming Mingyu. This gives him another chance to scamper, but he does not. Jeonghan turns around and pins Mingyu against the floor, forearm pressed close against his neck, upper body holding him down with enough force to have him scramble and flail for release.

Though it is obviously and increasingly strenuous to even start thinking of an idea, Mingyu does not surrender even after the third time Jeonghan barks at him. 

Instead, he widens his legs, enclose them around Jeonghan, then rolls them around so now he is on top. To fulfill his plan, though, Mingyu makes sure Jeonghan lies on his front before he reclaims his wrists and pushes his shoulders down. The sight of Jeonghan writhing, but with the same stubbornness of not admitting defeat, stokes Mingyu’s fire even more.

He lets go of his knee that is holding Jeonghan’s legs down, opting to adopt Jeonghan’s previous tactics and press down wholly along his body. The arm Mingyu used to hold his shoulders down now encircles Jeonghan’s neck, then it tightens and Mingyu pulls their bodies up. He can feel Jeonghan’s Adam’s apple against his forearm. This draws out long sounds out of Jeonghan, perfect and beautiful, much reminiscent of victory.

This does not stay for long, because Mingyu immediately realizes that something is wrong. Where Mingyu is lined up against Jeonghan’s back is warm, their body heat trapped within the lack of space, which also means Mingyu feels everything in contact with him. With Jeonghan still actively writhing under him, Mingyu has no doubt that soon his situation will be discovered.

With a sharp inhale, he roughly releases Jeonghan and rolls onto his back. Before he can stand up and cover himself, he finds that he is not in haste to do it, because Jeonghan goes limp on the ground, breathing equally if not harsher than Mingyu’s. Sometimes Mingyu does underestimate his own strength and overdo it, and seeing Jeonghan on the receiving end of things sparks a combination of pity and many other unidentified feelings.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu ends up asking first, not fond of the elongated silence.

When Jeonghan shifts, Mingyu jumps to sit, stiff as a board. It earns him a weird look his way, but that is better than his crotch being in plain view.

The only answer Jeonghan offers him is a groan. Yeah, he can sense the misery in it. Even the powder on the floor is almost wiped clean by their own clothes.

“There are going to be a lot of bruises later,” Mingyu adds. All that tussling against the hard ground promises nothing but that. “You are tired now and sore later, but the bruises are going to take a while.” Mingyu does not know why he is rambling, he is sure no matter how sheltered Jeonghan is, he must have gone through his day as a boy, earning a few bruises of his own. “They are going to be tender.” 

Rather than groaning again, Jeonghan sighs this time, seemingly resigned to whatever state his body will be reduced to later. Mingyu digs his nails into his palms at the thought of it. It takes him a moment to connect his reaction to the blood streaming down south, then all he can feel is shame. 

With his head in his hands, this image intrigues Jeonghan, who suddenly asks, “Are you okay?” When Mingyu does not answer, he continues, “Uh, I hope you are not feeling awful over this. I asked you to train me. There were many things for me to learn today, so I am grateful.”

Mingyu knows how pinched his expression must be, but he cannot smooth it out, even after calming down and alluding his circumstances as a natural reaction. “Then I am glad,” he replies, awkwardly cutting his sentence before he can address Jeonghan as His Highness again.

“Promise me, though,” Jeonghan says. Mingyu is terrible with promises, but he nods. “When I feel better, paint with me.”

To think that Jeonghan might have been waiting for Mingyu to accompany him while painting after his first invitation falls through, it sends warmth traveling around his body. To think that someone like Jeonghan has Mingyu in his mind, that he reconsiders what he wants to do. They might be more similar to each other than Mingyu assumed.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thank u for reading this far n i hope u look forward to the next chapter(s) :] check out [this](https://currentinfo.carrd.co/) & [this](https://getinformed.carrd.co/) carrds to get informed on current intl issues, [this carrd](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) and [this doc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-0KC83vYfVQ-2freQveH43PWxuab2uWDEGolzrNoIks/edit) for blm, [this thread](https://twitter.com/thecuddlecafe/status/1279803837793124353?s=20) containing links of black trans people to donate to (esp ones that have not reached their goals), [this gdoc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1237MqzCVFgSjB15PKk8hCfF4ZWhrwbcWe0P4rgQkONE/edit) containing info & resources on what international students in the us are currently facing n how u can help (dont forget to show up for non-students undoc pocs as well!), and celebrate july as disability pride month; get started with this [thread](https://twitter.com/BlondeHistorian/status/1279436680051687427?s=20)!
> 
> here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/plutoruled) if u want to chat & my [kofi](https://ko-fi.com/moonpluto) if u would like to support me :]


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